Doubts
by Quietharm
Summary: It is yet another cheery, sunny day on planet Earth. Vegeta and Bulma are happily residing at Capsule Corp. with 2.5 children, a dog, and a white picket fence. Yeah, right... (Also an explanation on how Bra and Pan became best buddies.) Finished
1. Frustrations

Doubts

A deep scowl etched itself deeply into the seam of Bulma's mouth as she tinkered with a malfunctioning motorcycle. Her current position gave her a dark vantage point beneath the bulk of the large vehicle that had gone haywire while in use. It was now jacked up, with herself underneath. She pinpointed the problem to a few loose circuits that had seemingly become rearranged of their own accord. This was impossible, of course, so therefore she could only come to conclude that someone had been messing with it.

The blue-haired woman gave a last couple of good yanks with the heavy wrench in her hand, directing her frustration towards a rusty bolt that was in need of tightening. Once this occurred, she could at least call it a day. Things never seemed to go her way, however, and it wasn't long before the bolt snapped from the force the wrench applied to it. It fell the short distance between Bulma's face and the underside of the bike, landing squarely on the woman's forehead. Bulma gave an aggravated sound through clenched teeth before wriggling out from beneath her project. The bolt had made a nice, greasy imprint across the expanse of her temple, and it was with growing irritation that she used the back of her sleeve to wipe at the mark. This only caused it to smear; leaving behind a black streak that served as a roadmap to the path her sleeve had taken. Muttering obscenities beneath her breath, Bulma turned to regard the motorcycle steamily, hands firmly on her hips.

"MOMMY!"

Her hands went up into the air, her invisible frustrations sent skyward with them. What now? "What _is _it, Bra?!" She did little to disguise her ire.

A short figure popped their head around the doorway, peering inside through a tangle of blue tresses. "I got the comb stuck in my hair, and I can't get it out!" The six-year-old stuck an indicative finger just above the crown of her small head, pointing blatantly to a plastic comb that she had somehow nested into a tangle of hair. Her lower lip came out into a pout while her eyes narrowed, letting her mother know the true severity of the situation.

The response Bra got from her older double was nearly expected. Staring gloomily down at the grease coating her hands and arms, Bulma frowned. "Where's your father? Can't he help you?"

Bra shook her head quickly, letting Bulma know that option was out of the question, as always. "No, Daddy is training. He would be mad if I asked him now." The young girl was about to switch to her last resort, which involved a certain puppy-dog face. It was only then that she noticed the smear of grime slashed across her mother's forehead. A giggle escaped her lips, and she lost no time in inquiring, "You sure are dirty, Mommy. Worse than Trunks."

At the mention of her son's name, Bulma sighed and crossed her arms against her blue work overalls, grease be damned. "Where _is_ your brother, anyways?"

In return, the reply that her young daughter offered could be expected, as well. It was an unspoken game of theirs, giving and receiving statements that each other knew the answer to already. "He's at Goten's. They are probably fighting again. He always comes home dirty after he does that." Bra grimaced, her small nose scrunching up at the thought of filth. It was an idea she quickly cast aside, however, as her childlike train of thought quickly reversed to her most pressing problem. "Can you puh-lease help me get this comb out, Mommy?" She began to tug at the offending piece of plastic, not enough to actually hurt her, but enough to make her simper in earnest.

With a sigh of resignation, Bulma headed over to her daughter. "Sure, sweetie. Just let Mommy clean up first." She arched one aqua eyebrow, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips as she made an attempt at humor. "You wouldn't want me to take that comb out with these hands, now would you?" She held up her slippery black fingers for emphasis, curling and wiggling her digits over Bra's head.

"Ewww! Gross!" It was enough to get the point across. With a cherubic smile, Bra scampered out the door of the lab, getting as far from those filthy fingers as possible.

Bulma smiled, heading to sink located near the door that her daughter had just left through. Reaching for the pump that contained soap, she squirted a bit of it into her palms and then turned on the lukewarm water via the faucet. The soap cut through the grime as it was supposed to, while the water willed it away, down the basin and into the drain. Once her arms and hands were clean enough, she risked a look up into the mirror directly in front of her. A look of disgust passed across her features, and she lost no time in scrubbing at the marks and streaks that adorned her countenance. Once that task was completed, she threw a wry look over to the motorcycle before switching off the lights to her lab. It was late afternoon, and the lights within the house were uncharacteristically dark. She was now in the kitchen, fumbling for the closest light switch and trying to find any hint that Bra was still around. Her hand struck it's intended target at long last, and the lights came up. Her pupils dilated a bit, growing accustomed to the nearly blinding overhead lights. The sight that greeted her in the kitchen was not Bra, and she couldn't exactly say truthfully that she would not have traded for the girl's presence, had it been possible.

Vegeta had been standing there, arms crossed against his hard chest. He was leaning up against the refrigerator, in a casual stance that let the observer know he could care less about whether he was being watched or not. His uncanny ability to pick up sounds at long distances had let him know time in advance just who was entering the kitchen, so even now he watched Bulma through a shuttered gaze.

Bulma swallowed once, before regaining her composure just as quickly as she had momentarily discarded it. All these years together, and still he could bring her on edge. There was something decidedly wrong in that. "Vegeta... is something wrong? Why were you sitting here in the dark?" She cast him a puzzled look before glancing around the vicinity, "Did you see Bra go by?"

Vegeta shifted from his 'devil may care' position, pushing away from the white refrigerator to stand on his own. His arms uncrossed, one coming to rest on a denim-clad hip, the other lying at his side. "The brat? Yeah, she came by." He scowled lightly, shaking his head back and forth. "Couldn't you of helped her with that comb? It's bad enough that you say you are going to do it, and then she happens to find me and makes me finish the job."

The teal-haired scientist stifled a smile at the sudden picture that Vegeta had conjured in her mind. She could just see a wincing, whining Bra instructing her scowling father on how to release the comb's death hold on her hair in the gentlest manner possible. Even the thought of Vegeta messing with Bra's hair was enough to send a full smile to her lips, minus the giggles that threatened to spring forth. "How considerate of you."

The Saiyan's black eyes flashed darkly. "Don't expect it to happen often, woman. I would have sent her back to you if she didn't have that bawling voice of yours." He skipped a beat, and then added, "Is my dinner ready yet? I just finished with my training, and I'm starved."

"Ugh!!! Vegeta, I'm a mess. _Look_ at me! You would at least give me the decency to clean up first!"

The short man gave her a sweep of his gaze, appearing nonplussed at what her image did to him. "You are always a mess, and I am looking at you. What's the big deal?"

A menacingly dirty look was all he got, and he silently berated himself for it. Tread carefully, or he may not get dinner at all tonight. "Shut up. I need to go take a shower."

He seemed amused by that. "I take care of your crying brat and this is what I get for gratitude? Why, I am the Prince of all.."

"..Jerks," she finished for him. "Besides, she is your daughter too. The least you could do is help out with her at least once in awhile."

"I train the boy already," he interjected calmly, "What else do you expect?"

"Oh, I don't know... for you to act like a father?" Their usual verbal spar was going downhill fast, and she knew it. She had to get out of there and up the stairs to the bathroom as soon as possible, before she said something she might regret. All things considered, it was possible she had already crossed that line.

Vegeta glowered at her, leaving his position on the tile to close the short gap between them. She saw the smoldering anger in his dark eyes, the way his brow had furrowed into a steep incline. Nearly nose to nose, she took the time to notice for the millionth time that he was about her own height, save for the steep flame of black hair that crested high above them both. "You don't know what you are saying, woman. I don't need you to tell me what I am and what I'm not. Remember that." It was a threat, even though she couldn't quite see what he would threaten her with. A blur of motion, and he was gone.

Shaking her head to rid herself of his scathing words, Bulma left the kitchen and climbed the staircase that led upstairs. He hadn't been that short with her sense the beginning of their relationship all of those years ago. Under more normal circumstances, he could sustain a lot more verbal abuse from her. This was definitely odd, but then again she should have known better than to attack his status as a father. Why did he care, anyways? He always went out of his way to make it appear like his children were nothing to him, but deep down Bulma _knew_ he cared for them. Hopefully, the hot spray of the shower would ease her mind... she must be overanalyzing things again.

-AN: Well, that's it for now. Chapter 2 coming soon.


	2. Prisoner Of War

Doubts Chapter 2

The hot spray of water from the showerhead did nothing to lessen the nagging guilt at the back of Bulma's mind. Her last comment to the Saiyan _had_ been a bit harsh, even for the usual insult slinging they still occupied themselves with. It became a firm resolution within her mind that she would go and apologize for it, as soon as she stepped out of the bathroom. Vegeta may never be the openly friendly father that Goku was, but he did care for Trunks and Bra in his own way.

With a twist of her slender wrist, Bulma shut off the onslaught of water from above. It died to a trickle in the faucet, allowing her to safely step out of the bathtub without getting any on the cool, ceramic tile of the bathroom floor. She dried herself off with a white towel, and then wrapped it skillfully around her wet locks, securing it in place before slipping into a fuzzy robe she kept hanging by the door. With a tightening of the sash, she opened the barrier between herself and the outer hallway, which in turn allowed the steam to drift free of the enclosed bathroom. Again, she found the hallway completely dark. What was going on, here?  


"Kids?" she ventured, stepping forward. Just down the long stretch of hallway she could see a faint white line from underneath Bra's bedroom door, which gave her a hint as to the location of her daughter. Padding barefoot over to the glimpse of light, she knocked softly on the wood panel to the door. "Bra? You in there?"

"Yeah, Mommy." The sound of a doorknob twisting clumsily reached her ears just as the young girl on the other side swung the door ajar.

Bulma peered into her daughter's room, as if searching for something or someone. "Is Trunks home yet?"

Bra shook her head firmly, piping up to give up the relevant information. "Nah. I forgot to tell you... he called and said he was sleeping over at Goten's house."

A trailing sigh came from the hallway, escaping from the older woman's half-parted lips. "Fine. Make sure to tell me next time in advance, ok?"

"Kay."

"Goodnight Bra."

"Night Mommy."

Bulma closed the door to Bra's bedroom; effectively shutting off any further conversation that might be taken up with her daughter. Sauntering wearily down to the end of the hallway, she reached her bedroom. Unlike Bra's room, there wasn't even any obvious evidence that someone had recently occupied it. Pushing aside the door, she slipped inside and closed it after her. Her fingers fumbled for the light switch, much as they had done in the kitchen. At first contact with the knob, she flicked it upwards and flooded the area with light. The bed was neatly made, giving the impression that no one had been in the proximity since that morning. Where was Vegeta? The thought plagued her as she strode over to the lamp on her nightstand. Turning it on, she made a return trip to the light switch near the door, which she abruptly turned off. The room was much dimmer now, but at least it was at a level that Bulma enjoyed a good book in. The aqua-haired woman swept aside the thick covers to her bed, before settling in for the night. She had a dog-eared book that she had started reading nearly three weeks prior awaiting her on her nightstand, and she eagerly picked it up to begin reading where she last left off.

As the night wore on and no sign of Vegeta had yet to surface, Bulma felt her eyelids begin to droop. She could barely stay awake any longer, and even the printed text across the pages of her novel were beginning to run together. It had been a long time indeed since she could last recall a time when she didn't have a clue as to Vegeta's whereabouts. That didn't mean she didn't have an inkling, however. If instinct served her right, the stubborn Saiyan was out in the Gravity Room, training away. Her worry became so great that it temporarily overrode the exhaustion she felt. Making sure to mark the spot she left off in her book, the woman threw aside her covers and set her feet on the soft carpeting at the base of the bed. The book was discarded on the nightstand, just as it had been last night when it's owner became drowsy. The way in which it was done was a bit different this time around, as Bulma's growing irritation at Vegeta's failed attendance to their bedroom caused the item to be nearly dropped into place. A wave of unease settled upon her shoulders as she made her way to the Gravity Room in her robe.

When Bulma reached the training simulator, she could easily glean the fact that someone was inside. There were sounds emitting from within it, familiar ones that could be heard daily. She had found Vegeta. Punching in a new access code that she had created especially for the room, she entered without even a warning as the gravity dropped to normal.

"Vegeta, just what do you think you are doing?!" Bulma stood in the doorway, hands on her hips.

At first, the sound of a crash was her only reply as the Saiyan nearly hit the roof of the Gravity Room. He had been pushing his normal limit, straining himself upward against the overbearing, opposing force when the woman had entered, reducing all that gravity to a simple level. It had taken him by surprise, and at the moment he was nearly peeling his face off the ceiling. "WOMAN!" He thundered.

Bulma couldn't help but to smirk. "Serves you right. You didn't even have the decency to tell me you would be here this late."

Gathering up his wounded dignity, Vegeta floated down several notches, until his feet touched the ground. He crossed his arms against his chest as he usually did when he got defensive, and right about then he looked ready to kill. "You could have at least warned me before you did that. What right do you have, coming in here anyway?"

Bulma stomped one foot, her fists balling at her sides. The nerve of that man! "Need I remind you who _owns_ and _repairs_ this chamber? Without me you wouldn't even have a place to train, much less live!"

The reminder did nothing to phase him. He smirked haughtily in his usual fashion, nearly sneering back at her. "...And need I remind you what I could do..."

He didn't get far on that one. Bulma held up one hand, palm up and facing him before she cut him off. "Spare me the lecture. You aren't going to blast me one and we both know it. Why do you even waste your time with that?"

Vegeta growled at being interrupted, while his forehead creased at intersection of his dark eyebrows. She had him there. "Idiot woman. If you believe I am wasting your time, then I suggest you leave." He seemed to ponder it a moment, and then authoritively restated his advice a second time, "No, I request it."

His words stung, just as they often did long before Trunks was even born and they were getting to know each other. She was so caught up in her pain and fury at his gall, that she didn't notice a small, six-year-old child standing behind her clutching a teddy bear. "Fine, your royal highn-ass. I'd be more than glad to, if you are going to be like that!"

A small whimper caught both of their attention as a diminutive form began to back away from the quarrel observed between both of her parents. Bra had been unable to sleep that night, plagued by worries of repeating another comb-in-the-hair situation, and so it was with much curiosity that she had heard her mother open the door to the bedroom she and her father shared. Making sure to keep absolutely quiet, the child had followed after her mother, careful in her footfalls. With eyes as wide as saucers, she had witnessed their falling out. She didn't completely understand the emphasis on words that they used, but she could discern anger and bitterness when she heard it.

Bulma whirled, shocked. She spared a stricken look over to Vegeta for only a second, before kneeling down to reach out to her daughter. "Oh, sweetie, why aren't you in bed?? You shouldn't have seen that..."

Vegeta looked disgruntled, but otherwise remained silent as he took a few tentative steps towards Bra in apprehension.

Tears spiked the girl's eyelashes as she turned from them both, pivoting hastily around and running from the very spot, crying in muffled tones as she went.

Bulma hissed through clenched teeth as she turned on Vegeta. "This is all _your_ doing. I hope you are proud of yourself." Before he had time to get something in, she was gone, racing after Bra.

Within the Gravity Room, the almighty Prince of Saiyans felt his stomach drop. As much as he hated to admit it, something in him wanted to go after the two and make amends. Even though the compulsion was heavy, his pride still outweighed it by a marginal fraction. Cursing a string of slander that would make even a seasoned seaman blush, Vegeta nearly decimated a keypad nearby as he plugged in the numbers to make the gravity rise higher than the oppressive level he had had it at earlier. He'd leave Bra to Bulma, as he reasoned that she would have more of an effect on the girl than he ever would. There wasn't much time to reason, however, because the effect of the crushing gravity thankfully brought his mind back to training... and train he did, more fiercely than before.

-AN: Yay! Ch. 3 coming soon.


	3. A Call To Arms

Doubts: Chapter 3

Bulma spent the better part of an hour cheering up the overly distraught Bra. Through tears, hiccups and sniffles, she managed to make it clear to the girl that the woman's squabble with Vegeta had nothing to do whatsoever with the child. Bulma patiently summed up the situation for the girl, admonishing that her 'Daddy was just being difficult'. At first, Bra didn't even want her mother to emerge into her bedroom, but it wasn't too long before she collapsed into Bulma's lap, where she cried ceaselessly. As the tremors in the young child's shoulders failed to quake with their former ferocity, Bulma sighed and used her fingers to straighten and comb through the girl's blue strands.

"Are you going to be ok, sweetheart?"

Bra glanced up from the relative safety of Bulma's lap, her lower lip quivering as she used the back of her hand to wipe away a few last teardrops. "Yuh-yeah."

Bulma forced a small smile, pulling Bra upright so that her hands were on the upper portion of her daughter's forearms. "You need to get so sleep... it's really late."

Bra simply nodded mutely.

With a little coheresion from Bulma, Bra was soon tucked beneath the cover of her bedspread. The blue-haired scientist reached out, gently caressing the top of the demi-Saiyan's temple. Bra's eyes fluttered shut, exhaustion finally kicking in. With a waning smile, Bulma turned off the lights and took the opportunity to exit.

As she was closing the bedroom door behind her, she nearly blindsided a frustrated Vegeta in the process.

"Woman! Watch where you are going!" He barked.

"Shhh, you imbecile! I just got Bra to go to sleep!" Her voice came in a hissed whisper before she went on to say, "If you wake her up, I swear to Kami that you will be the one calming her down for the next hour or so, not me!"

The short Saiyan merely crossed his arms against his chest and grunted dismissively at the threat. It had been almost fifteen minutes ago that he had come up from the GR, only to pause near Bra's room at the sound of muffled cries from within. He had heard the last part of what Bulma told Bra, and nearly burst inside to make her take back the remarks she made about his fault in the matter. In truth, it wouldn't help matters at all, and this logic alone restrained him.

"You are impossible. I can't believe you made her cry."

The accusation hit him like a ton of bricks, and the tone of his voice was a gruff rasp as he replied, "Me? You were doing enough yowling for both of us, plus an entire alley full of mongrel cats!"

She scowled defiantly at the barb. "Well, if you didn't spend so much time in that dumb Gravity Room, I wouldn't have to! It's about time you shouldered a little bit more responsibility to your family these days. You were lax enough when it came to Trunks."

A contemptuous snort was the only reply she got at first, but he was quick to retaliate with his own complaint, "Now you are just being hypocritical. You spend hours in that lab of yours, and do you see me simpering over it? No."

The hair at the back of Bulma's neck stood on end. Somewhere in the back of her mind she was vaguely aware that they were arguing right in front of Bra's bedroom. So much for good planning. It didn't matter much to her at that particular moment, as all her rage was currently being lashed out at Vegeta. It blinded her to all else. Gritting her teeth, the woman leered at Vegeta as she lifted a hand to prod him none too gently in the middle of his chest. "I have responsibilities to my company and business life. My time in the lab has everything to do with that, and you know that. Without me, you wouldn't have anything. All you ever do is train and feed that bottomless pit of yours. You aren't good for anything else!"

Vegeta was taken aback for a split second, his eyes widening as surprise flickered briefly across his stony countenance. He was amazed at her audacity, even after all that time. "You dare..."

"Yeah, I do. You need to set your priorities straight. When you do, we'll talk." She didn't allow him the ability to get one more word out. With an abrupt about-face, Bulma stalked off to the bedroom they shared at the end of the hall, slamming it behind her. The walls seemed to shake for a brief eternity, before all lapsed into silence.

Vegeta frowned, muttering incoherently about baka women. Clenching and unclenching the tight fists he had since balled at his sides, he gave one last curse aloud and strode off towards the kitchen without a further word. His departure was like saying farewell to a maelstrom that had finished wreaking havoc for the time being.

Inside the dark enclosure of Bra's spacious bedroom, a small girl was curled up into a fetal position underneath her bed covers. She was shaking slightly, after having overheard the entire argument that had occurred right outside her door. Her acute hearing was both and blessing and a curse that she had undoubtedly inherited from Vegeta, but her emotions ran as deep as her mother's did. Even though they had started to bicker in hushed tones, their vocalizations eventually ran high in the end, adding to her six-year-old understanding of their troubles.

Bra straightened up, shivering slightly as she wiped at her sore eyes. She felt hollow inside, but at long last she began to feel the determination of both her father and mother, while what logic she did possess began to reason out a way to help her parents. She had heard each of their complaints to the other, and it was with a firm resolution that she decided to do something about it.

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Gohan and Videl's residence- The Next Day

Around 10:00 a.m., the phone began to ring with the obnoxious buzz that only that particular item possessed. Videl, Gohan and Pan were in the middle of eating breakfast when it happened. Pan was the first to reach the call, nearly leaping out of her chair in a rush to get to the receiver. "Hello?" She piped.

"Hey, Pan. Is your mom or dad home?" It was Bulma.

"Yeah, hold on." The seven-year-old became a bit disheartened that the call was not for her, but she got over it quickly as she rushed back to her cereal and handed the cordless off to the first parent she encountered. It happened to be Videl.

"Hello?" Uncertainty flowed across the phone line as Pan settled down into her chair and made a face at how soggy she believed her cereal had become. In the meantime, Gohan lowered his morning newspaper and sent a questioning look over to Pan. The tomboy spared him a glance, before silently mouthing the name 'Bulma'. The man nodded in return before redirecting a twin set of dark eyes on Videl, who appeared to be listening intently.

"Oh, Pan? Well, I'm sure she would love to! We were just about to head out of town tomorrow for a speech Gohan is going to give, and she would probably be bored to tears. This sounds much better."

Through a mouthful of soppy cereal, Pan glanced up suspiciously at her mother, her eyes narrowing slightly.

"I think it's a great idea, Bulma. It would cheer your daughter up and give Pan someone around her own age to be with for a week."

By now Pan was shaking her head furiously, arms outstretched and hands flailing wildly at the mention of keeping company with Bra. She looked like a desperate basketball player on the court, trying to get the attention of the player with the ball who was hopelessly oblivious to her presence.

Gohan noticed it, but wisely didn't say a word just yet. When Pan shot him a frantic look that begged for help across the table, he simply raised the paper in front of his face again. Going up against what Videl had decided was a good idea was like facing off with the determination of his mother. In that the two were unfortunately alike, and all throughout his growing years he had learned _not_ to go against the wishes of a woman on a mission.

"Well, I guess that settles it, then." A light frown eclipsed Videl's visage as she witnessed her only child jumping up and down and making obvious signals for her mother to cease and desist at once. In all honesty, she believed it would be better for Pan to stay out of the educational function that she and Gohan were to attend in the coming week. It would be a boring affair for the kid, without anyone her own age out and about. In all likelihood, she would be the only child there. Videl had considered the possibility of leaving her with Goku and Chi-Chi, but they had had Trunks over for the past two days. Now Bulma had called of her own will, asking for Pan's presence over at Capsule Corp. It seemed like a fair trade.

Pan looked about ready to hit her head against the nearest wall as Videl sealed the deal.

"Alright, I'll drop her off tomorrow. We were going to head out early tomorrow morning, so this works out perfectly." A pause on her end, and then Videl nodded her goodbye. "Thanks, Bulma! See you later!" She hung up.

The first word out of Pan's mouth was the long drawl of a single vowel followed by a line of consonants. "Awwwww, Mom!"

"Don't look at me like that, Pan. You would of hated the seminar, anyways."

Gohan finally found the courage to peer over the edge of his periodical. He had battled many a foe, all very fearsome in many different ways, but none of that could measure up to Videl's scorn, should she choose to bestow it. He would happily skip that, if at all possible. "It's ok, Pan. You'll have fun." He smiled brightly, trying to get the perky facial expression across to his depressed daughter while still supporting his wife at the same time.

Pan's shoulders slumped, and she sagged down in her chair. She suddenly felt as if she couldn't finish the rest of her cereal, even with the legendary appetite of the Saiyan's flowing in her veins. "This is gonna be the pits." She ended that statement by folding her arms across the surface of the table in front of her, letting her head land squarely in the middle.

Over the bandanna that held back their child's medium crop of black hair, Gohan and Videl shared apprehensive looks. They knew of their daughter's hostility towards Bra, as the two were nearly exact opposites in personality. Pan liked to train and fight, while Bra... well, Bra liked to shop and play with dolls. Pan thought Bra was far too girlish for her own good, and Bra seemed to feel that Pan acted too much like a boy. The only difference was that Bra would openly try to dissuade Pan of her chosen lifestyle while the older Pan would sulkily sit through the torture each and every time they were forced to get together by their parents. If she was lucky, she might get in a degrading quip or two that temporarily eluded Bra's newfound goal to get Pan interested in the more feminine aspects of life. This tactic usually ended with Bra running to the nearest adult and proclaiming to the entire world in her highest voice that Pan was being rude. To anyone with half a brain, it was no small wonder that Bra's own twenty-year-old brother stayed away from home on summer break for days at a time. It was going to be one _long_ week.

-AN: Chapter 4 coming soon. R&R, please!


	4. The Air We Breathe

Doubts: Chapter 4

The accursed day that had produced the call from Bulma passed quickly for the most recent branch of the Son family, slipping away into night. Pan dreaded the moment she would step foot on Capsule Corp. property, but she knew it was inevitable. She barely got a wink of sleep, tossing and turning into the early hours. It wasn't long before Videl, who was busily rushing to and fro, called the young girl from her comfortable bed.

"Come on, Pan! You have everything packed, right?" Her mom's worried, disembodied voice came whisking down the hallway to her ears. Pan was still a bit groggy from the lack of sleep she received, and sound seemed to reach her as if listening down a long tube.

"Yeah, mom." She spoke half-heartedly, not really caring at all if Videl heard her or not. As she struggled to get changed, she recapped the events of yesterday morning. _A week spent with Bra_. How did this happen to her? Why couldn't she just stay over at her Grandpa's with Trunks and Goten? At least then she would be around cool people, not to mention the way she looked up to Trunks. She had a big respect for him, even more so than her uncle Goten. If she were over there, he would no doubt help her work on her fighting techniques. But alas, fate had dealt a cruel hand indeed. She would have to settle for his obnoxious little sister instead.

A gentle, repetitive knock reverberated on the bedroom door, just as she was adjusting her bandanna into place. Hefting up a simple duffel bag crammed with a few clothing items and other necessary accessories, Pan reached the doorknob and was greeted with the sight of her father on the other side. "Ready?"

"Ready," she affirmed dryly, turning to get a last look at her room before joining Gohan out in the hall. "Dad, do I have to do this? Can't I just go with you an' mom?"

Gohan sighed; he really hated to put Pan into a situation she would rather not be in at all. "Sorry, Pan. You heard your mom. Besides, you..."

"...wouldn't like to go anyways. I know, I know. You and mom have only said it like a million times." Her voice was coated with sarcasm, and accompanied by a heavenward roll of her dark eyes, it was almost too much for someone of her height and age. Still, she did a pretty good job of pulling it off. It even surprised Gohan to some extent.

Rubbing the nape of his neck with one hand uncertainly, which in fact was a mirror image of his father's exact gesture, the demi-Saiyan stared down at his daughter quizzically. There was no time to analyze just how she had picked up this behavior so fast, so he easily deferred back to his original mission. "Uh, yeah. Your mom is ready and waiting outside. Let's go."

Pan only grumbled more at the mention of leaving the house behind. "Lead the way."

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Capsule Corp.- That same morning...

Bulma hummed to herself as she took a moment to spare herself a little free time. One thing that Vegeta had been right about... she needed to relax, and kick back a bit. She _had_ been spending a little too much time in the lab as of late, and it had begun to show. Even if it was only a faint shadow in the eye, or a tightness to the mouth. Her temper hadn't been faring too well either, but now as she let the cushions of the den sofa to envelop the counters of her shape, she felt at peace. Well, until Bra came zipping by, her hair trailing in the breeze she created.

Bra huffed with the rapid expenditure of energy, all smiles as she came to a temporary stop right in front of her mother's rented movie. "Mommy, guess what!?"

Bulma groaned and tried in vain to look over the blue crown of her daughter's bobbing head. She was missing a particularly good scene in the movie, the one right before the pinnacle. No matter where she would move her head, or at which angle she would turn her body, Bra was right there, constantly in front of her. At last, she threw up her hands in defeat. "What, Bra?"

The young child barely drew enough breath for what she was going to say next, her cheeks puffing out into a red swell as she exhaled with every word. "Pan and Pan's mommy and daddy are here and then I'm going to take Pan to my room and show her all my new dolls and my new dollhouse and then we can go shopping at the mall and..."

The human that had previously been relaxing in the couch could do nothing but smirk and push herself to her feet. She reached around the chattering youth, deftly catching up the remote from the coffee table. With a flick of a switch, she turned the television set off and then hit power on the VCR. "Ok, ok. Wanna go meet them with me?" She extended her hand out to Bra in an invitation.

Bra beamed. "Of course, mommy!" She readily accepted the larger hand in her smaller one.

The pair headed off to the spacious entryway that opened up into the mansion's many rooms. Bulma opened one of the double doors, swinging it aside. Gohan, Videl and Pan were busy coming up the walkway, after having just left a copter that had come with Videl's inheritance when she married Gohan. Bra must have sighted them coming from her bedroom window; ever since she heard that Pan was coming for a visit, she could hardly contain herself. She had been up at the crack of dawn, arranging her toys to best suit the way in which she imagined herself and Pan playing with them.

Videl was smiling, her ebony hair stirring slightly in the artificial breeze created by the slow circling of the copter's blades. "Bulma! It's nice to see you again. Where's Vegeta?" The young woman glanced about, as if expecting a scowling man to appear at any given second. She couldn't exactly admit to missing it if he hadn't.

Bulma smiled graciously at Pan's parents, before a sharp tug at her hand told her to release a suddenly over exuberant girl. "Hey, guys! I -"

She was cut off by a high-pitched squeal that caused them all to wince. Bra raced up to a frowning Pan, as if she was being reunited with a long lost friend. Two small arms wrapped themselves snugly around Pan's neck, being the two girls where nearly the same height. Pan disdainfully raised her arms, but made a point to not to return the embrace. Instead, she held them above Bra's shoulders, as if afraid to touch something loathsome. In truth, that held some merit.

As Videl, Gohan and Bulma watched Pan's expression become scandalized, the adults couldn't help but to chuckle, albeit nervously. Gohan was the first to step first to step forward, grinning widely at Bulma. "How's it going, Bulma?"

She returned the smile, folding her arms across her chest. "Just great. As for Vegeta..." In response to Videl's earlier query, she narrowed her eyes slightly and glanced fervently around. "I don't know, really," She rolled her eyes before continuing, "Probably in the Gravity Room or the kitchen. Either or seems to suit him just fine."

Videl's smile faltered, as she had received a brief summarization of Bulma's troubles with Vegeta the morning she had called. "Oh, I see.." She left it at that. There was no need to go picking at scabs, especially with the limited time frame they were experiencing.

Meanwhile, Pan was busying herself with prying Bra's fingers off the back of her neck. She had to drop her duffel bag to the side to fully concentrate on the task. It wasn't easy, for those two short arms held all the strength of a steel vice, and they were steadily tightening with each effort Pan put into removing them. "Ug.. can't.. breathe.. Bra!"

The younger girl was simply enjoying hugging the one she deemed a friend, although it couldn't really be applied that way from Pan's viewpoint. When Bra finally let go, it was on her own terms, not Pan's. Making a swift grab for one of Pan's hands, her tiny digits encompassed the other girl's as she jerked her forward. Bra's freehand picked up Pan's duffel bag, bringing that in tow as well. "Come see my new dolls, Pan!" She was now all but dragging poor Pan into the mansion.

Pan was shocked at the strength the smaller girl possessed. She couldn't recall Bra ever exhibiting this much potential before, but it was that same potential that nearly choked the life from her body. Dazed, she threw a glance back over her shoulder to her parents, silently pleading for them to release her from this compromising situation.

Thankfully, it was Gohan who interceded first. Stepping up between the open doorway to the mansion and Bra's route of entry with his amazing speed, he stooped down to smile meaningfully at Bra. "Mind if Videl and I say goodbye to Pan first, Bra?"

Bra seemed to consider it a moment, her cerulean eyes darting back and forth between Gohan and an angst-ridden Pan. "Oh, ok." A bit disappointed but still unthwarted, she released Pan long enough for father and daughter to give each other a quick hug.

Pan saw her chance and leaned into her father, wrapping her arms around his sturdy neck and whispering fiercely into his ear, "Send backup. Now."

Gohan pulled away, fixing Pan with a look mixed with amusement and horror. It didn't last long as Videl stepped up to claim her rights to embrace Pan next. "See you soon."

"Bye, mom." Pan forced a smile for her mother's sake before switching a gaze full of desperation to Gohan as Videl drew away from the hug she and Pan had shared a moment before. Gohan chuckled, ducking his head and glancing pointedly at the copter parked over on the front lawn.

"Ready, Videl?"

"Ready!"

"See you two!" Bulma waved as the couple gave a few last looks of encouragement to their daughter, who at the moment was back in Bra's clutches. The younger child was dragging a miserable Pan up the stairs to her bedroom, all the while rambling on about what fun the two would have with her new 'Malibu Babe' dolls. After all, Bulma _had_ purchased nearly twenty of them for her. By the time Pan and Bra were on the second floor of the mansion, Videl and Gohan had already taken off, leaving Bulma standing alone in her front yard. As her hair whipped against her face like separate lashes against her skin, Bulma pondered the decision in its entirety.

"This was either a very big mistake that I'm going to regret later, or the best idea I've had yet." The woman shook her head ruefully, and then gave another sweeping gaze out over the length of the property in hopes of catching a glimpse of a certain foul-tempered Saiyan. No such luck. With this in mind, she reentered her large abode. Bulma's mumbled utterance was for herself alone, but it was not missed out on by a pair of sharp ears.

Vegeta was sitting above the mansion, laying casually out on the rooftop as he had watched the entire scene unfold below. His smirk never dwindled as he saw his 'princess' drag Kakkorot's brat's spawn into their abode. For nearly two nights he had spent all his time carefully avoiding Bulma, so it was with much interest that he observed the activity that had just transpired. Why Pan was now under their roof he did not know, but he supposed he would find out sooner or later. It did not matter much, for he had more pressing problems at the moment. The two days he had spent sleeping in the GR had seemed an eternity. After all those years of cushion and pomp, sleeping on a cold, hard floor did something to bring him to a conclusion. He needed to make things right between himself and the woman again, as much as he hated to admit it. Deep down, it wasn't just the effect the floor was having on his sore body... he actually despised the fight and distance between them. He'd be dead and gone before he'd ever come to admit it aloud, however.

Shaking his head, Vegeta mused over a couple of other facets of his relationship with Bulma. Over the course of that time his smirk faded to a deep frown, although he failed to realize it. In the end, all of that thinking gave him a hunger that he needed to go satiate. In two ways.

-AN: Chapter 4 completed. Ch. 5 next. R&R!


	5. The Mischief Makers

Doubts: Chapter 5

High up on the second floor of the C.C. mansion, contained furthermore within a world of pink, pastel colors and fluffy stuffed animals, Pan was undergoing the customary torture that ensued whenever she visited Bra.

Bra held up the slender, plasticized version of a woman with far too much blonde hair for her own good. With pride shining gleefully within the depths of her aqua blue orbs, she announced, "This is gonna be me. I'll get your doll."

Pan exhaled deeply. The two girls were kneeling nearly waist deep in a sea of fake hair and miniature limbs. Bra had dumped about two tubs full of various 'Babe' dolls as soon as she had released Pan to the exclusion of her room. From Pan's viewpoint, it was a prison. It also didn't help that Bra had more dolls than Pan had training sessions within an entire month.

The younger child dug somberly through the piles of strewn dolls, carefully selecting a certain one before rejecting it with the same careful scrutiny. The rejects were tossed over her shoulder, before they collided with her bedroom door. They made a loud, resonating 'WHUMP' before hitting the floor. Pan could only watch with morbid fascination as each and every one that had undergone this process was now half a head shorter. With the raw strength behind Bra's throws, they usually hit the solid door head on, which caused the top half of their plastic skulls to implode. No wonder why Bulma had made it such a point as to buy so many dolls for her daughter. "Here! I found you!"

Pan riveted her attention back to Bra, eyes wide on the doll that the demi-Saiyan had selected.

Bra triumphantly held up a tall doll with the body of a waif. She had dark, straight hair similar to Pan's, as well as dark eyes. There was no muscle tone, no hint of the slightest power in her svelte conformation. "She looks like you!"

"No, she doesn't. No one looks like that!"

The teal-haired girl defiantly jutted out her lower lip in a small pout. "Of course she does! See?" Bra motioned blatantly to the similar colorations between the doll and her breathing counterpart.

"Maybe in that way, but..."

"Here, take her."

Pan gritted her teeth and accepted the doll contemptuously. In the meantime, she motioned over to the damaged, inanimate figurines that lay in a haphazard pile near Bra's bedroom door. "Do you even care that you broke those?"

Bra spared a glance over her shoulder, shaking her head quickly in response. "No, silly!" She giggled a little. "Mommy always gets me more."

Pan openly bared her teeth. If she ever thought Bra was a spoiled brat before, this only proved it. "You can't just go treating stuff like that, even if it is yours!"

Bra blinked guilelessly up at Pan. "Why not?"

"Um, 'cause the world can't always give you an endless supply of dolls!"

The six-year-old's features darkened quickly at that statement, her expression a near replica of her father's scowl. "Can too!" She huffed and sulkily crossed her arms against her chest.

"Can not!" Pan replied, her agitation at being forced to play with dolls growing even further. Her frown deepened, and she threw down the dark-haired doll that Bra had given her. "I'm not playing with these stupid things!"

Bra stood in a motion so quick; it was nearly a streak of color. Instead of going for Bulma as she usually did under these circumstances, she snapped the head off the blonde 'Malibu Babe' that she had been holding in her hands. "Will too!" Her high tenor echoed off the walls of the room, as piercing as Bulma's own.

Pan traded looks between the seething Bra, the decapitated doll she now held, and the pile of rejects near the door with the sunken heads. Almost quietly, the seven-year-old ventured to ask, "How did you get so strong, Bra?"

Bra lost her frown, but her usually wide eyes remained narrowed. "Doesn't matter. Play dolls with me!"

Pan shook her head, standing fully upright. "Ya know, you could actually do something with that strength of yours, instead of breaking your things all the time."

The younger girl seemed to consider the possibility for a moment, but then she firmly shook her head and stuck out her tongue in disgust. "I don't wanna learn to fight. Trunks said the same thing."

"Why not?"

A small nose crinkled at the thought. "Because fighting is for boys."

"Is not! My dad trains me all the time." Pan's indignant protest cut through the tension still hovering in the air.

"Is too!"

Pan found herself staring defeat in the face, but still refused to give up. Bra may have won the battle again, but not the war. "Look, I'll..." She found herself choking on the words, "I'll play dolls with you this time, if you spar with me later."

Bra appeared to be seriously considering the proposal with all the severity that a youth possessed. Instead of running to Bulma, her father or grandparents, she smirked. It was a slow movement, a gliding curve of her lips upward to one side of her mouth. It was Vegeta's smirk, no doubt. "Fine. Only if you help me with something later."

Gohan's daughter paused, surprise filling her face. "What's that?"

"I need to get Mommy and Daddy to like each other again."

"You _what_?"

"You heard me." Bra's smirk was suddenly wiped clean again, her countenance a mask of determination. "Mommy said that Daddy spends too much time training, and eating, and Daddy said that Mommy spends too much time playing in her lab."

Pan looked absolutely speechless. "..And you want me to help you fix this somehow?"

Bra nodded, her charade gone almost at once. Her lower lip trembled, and the grim resolution she had a moment prior fell away. At any moment, she might burst out bawling. "Puh-lease, Pan? I'll be your best friend forever if you do!"

The last thing Pan wanted was for Bra to start gushing waterworks, so she held up both of her hands peaceably. "Ok, ok, I'll help you. Just don't cry!" She almost blurted out that Bra could keep her eternal friendship, it wouldn't be needed. On the other hand, it might just serve as a second catalyst for Bra's tears.

A wide grin appeared on Bra's round face, and she nearly squealed with delight. "Oh, you will!? Thanks, Pan!"

"Don't mention it," Pan muttered. What had she just gotten herself into?

"Now, all we need to do is..."

As Pan listened to Bra's proposal, all the coloration seeped from her face. She swallowed twice, while her hands fidgeted uncontrollably in front of her. Obviously, Bra had been scheming over her plan for at least a few days. There was no way the first-grader could come up with the entire thing on a spur of the moment basis. When she finished, Pan was flabbergasted.

"But.. but.. your parents will kill us if they find out!"

Bra snickered, her deviousness now at the forefront. "They won't."

"How can you say that?"

Bra rolled her eyes, as if it were obvious. "We are shorter than Daddy and Mommy, and a lot sneakier."

"_That's_ your reason?" Pan said shrilly.

"Uh-huh."

"We're dead meat. I have a bad feeling about this." Trust her to take up the logic of someone only six years in age. ...Then again, Pan was only a meager year older. It was all she really had to work with.

"You worry too much." She made a point to stare meaningfully down at the floor, still layered with dolls and their accessories.

Pan's gaze followed Bra's down to her toys. "What?"

"Are we gonna play dolls, or what? You promised!"

"Did not!" Pan shot back.

"Did too!" Bra's spine stiffened experientially, her muscles tensing.

Pan sighed. "I said I would, but I didn't _promise_." She hunkered down to the carpeting again, opting to sit cross-legged. "Let's just get this over with, ok?"

The demi-Saiyan rolled her eyes ceilingward. "Party-pooper." Bra jerked a finger in Pan's direction, almost in challenge. "You better play nice, or I'm not going to spar with you later!"

Pan laughed a little, despite herself. "I won't help you with your parents, then."

For the very first time, Bra looked cornered. "Fine, be like that. Let's just play, alright?" Her blue eyebrows tugged upward, in hope of Pan's compliance with the original strategy.

The smile she got in return was done a bit grudgingly, but at least it was genuine. "Alright." Pan reached for her discarded, dark-haired doll. Bra selected a new doll out of her plethora of others, one with the same clothes and the puffed, cornflower hair that her first did. One could even say that it resembled her grandmother somewhat. As Pan forced herself to play with the doll she represented while Bra did it naturally with her own, she couldn't help but wonder if the week would go from bad to worse. Oh well, at least she got a single sparring session out of it, even if it _was_ with Bra.

-AN: Well, that's it for Chapter 4. Just -what- did Bra come up with to get Vegeta and Bulma back together? Will it even work? More next time!

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragonball, nor the characters, ect.


	6. Vandals

Doubts: Chapter 6

As the day wore on, gliding neatly into a scenic sunset, a few tensions had dissipated while others lingered and grew. Bulma was in her laboratory again, revving up the motorcycle that had undergone her technical ministrations for the last few days. Bra and Pan were upstairs, having only once retreated to the kitchen for a lunch prepared by Mrs. Briefs before sprinting back up to Bra's room. They appeared to be getting along far better than they ever had before, but for some reason Bulma's young guest had behaved a bit nervous and apprehensive all throughout the meal. She kept switching frazzled looks over to the fridge, and then to Bra. Bra in turn would direct covert looks back to Pan, shaking her head and chewing her food rather carefully. They acted as if the scientist took no notice, and indeed she had pretended not to do so. Whatever they were up to, she had ignored. She had more pressing predicaments as of late. As soon as the girls had made their departure, Bulma's mother had begun to prattle off about 'what nice children' they were, and other mundane trifles that weren't really noteworthy. She had nodded along with a blank smile, but her mind was concentrated elsewhere.

Vegeta hadn't turned up at all, and usually he was right on time for breakfast, brunch, lunch, dinner, snacks... the smell of food alone attracted the Saiyan like a bloodhound to the kill. After her mother had thankfully bid her a temporary goodbye to go search down her father and fill his head with her inane chatter, Bulma took the opportunity to go check out the Gravity Room. To her shock and growing consternation, he was absent of the chamber altogether. Where had he gone? Those words alone repeated themselves over and over like some obscene, broken record as she hastily beat a path into the house, bounding up the staircase to go look in the last possible place she could expect him. After a thorough search of their bedroom, she was at a loss.

__

Just where could he be? Did he head over to spar with Goku without telling me?

It was true he had been avoiding her the past couple of days, as well as she him. Confused, she gave it some time and returned to work in her lab until dusk fell. By then there was still no sign of Vegeta, and a sickening feeling was beginning to twist within her gut. Killing the engine on the bike with a noisy choke that left the vehicle sputtering into eventual silence, Bulma hopped off and reached for a phone kept near the doorway to her work station. Punching in a number she knew too easily by heart, she awaited a response while her anxiety swelled. Two rings later, there was a click and someone picked up.

Initially, all she could hear over the line was the obnoxious bass boom of rock music, with a voice struggling to cut through the clamor. She could barely make out Goten's yell over the airwaves, "Hello..? Hello?"

"Hello!? Goten?" Bulma bit her lower lip and raised her voice a few octaves. "**_Goten!_** Is Goku or Chi-Chi there??"

There was a scuffling on the other end, and the rowdy music died somewhat as the volume was lowered. She vaguely heard someone's muffled voice remark, "Trunks, I think it's your mom."

Bulma squeezed her eyes shut, rephrasing what she had just said. Her contralto was still high, as she momentarily forgot that the music had gone down to a reasonable pitch. "**_Trunks!?_**"

She immediately got an annoyed response for that feat. "Whoa, mom! Keep your voice down, ok? I'm not deaf!"

Bulma was quick to recompense for the unwanted pressure she had thrown into the scale of her tone. "Sorry, but you guys had that music going a little too loud, don't you think?"

"Yeah, well... Goten got a new CD he wanted me to listen to. It's pretty cool."

"I see. Well, I just called to see if anyone could inform me as to whether or not your father is over there with Goku."

The reply on the other end was a little surprised, as well as sarcastic. "Dad? Over here? What made you think that?"

Bulma sighed, a little perturbed by the response. She unconsciously shifted her weight to her right leg, and perched the palm of one hand on her hip. "This isn't funny, Trunks. I just wanted to know whether or not Vegeta was planning on sparring with Goku."

Concern laced Trunks' words when he spoke next, after a small pause. Ah, there was her son. "No, he isn't here... are you saying you haven't seen him at home?"

"Not for days." She did little to hide the fact from him, where on the other hand she would have with Bra. Trunks, for some reason or another, could sometimes rationalize Vegeta when she could not. Where she failed to understand him, he picked up the pace and vice versa. It was a nice tactic.

"Whoa.. well.. did you guys get into a big fight or what?"

Bulma pondered this query for a minute, shaking her head at long last. Even though Trunks couldn't see the movement, he _could_ hear the dissent in her voice. "Nothing bigger than normal. Just a lot of little ones here and there." Ok, there was that part about her attacking his role as a father, but she didn't mention that.

"Hmm. Sounds serious. Need me there to find him? I can probably track him down pretty quick. He's probably just avoiding you for awhile..."

She cut in quickly, "Oh, no, that's ok. I want you to have fun there with Goten. It's probably nothing. He'll show up by tonight, and moody as ever..."

Trunks hesitated, before inquiring worriedly, "Are you sure, mom?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. Don't worry about me. Have fun." She could already hear the music rising in the background again, as if Goten had turned it back up by some unseen cue from Trunks. How were they getting off having it so loud with Chi-Chi around? Goku's wife must have either been struck deaf or was out of the house altogether on some errand. Knowing the probability of such things, Bulma concluded it was the latter.

"Yeah, see you later mom!" Trunks' voice was swiftly drowned out by the fast tempo of some rock band and their overbearing beat. Bulma sighed again deeply, hanging up the receiver. It looked like she was alone on this one. Muttering to herself in a way even she didn't understand, the blue-haired woman abandoned her laboratory and began to make her way out the door. She gave one last, lingering look out regret out at the motorcycle, parked quietly where she had last left it. When she turned around to go out the door, she nearly did a faceplant into a wall of some sort... even though it wasn't.

Vegeta was standing in her path, as if he had been there the entire time. His arms were at his sides, and he was garbed in a loose pair of boxer shorts and a white wife beater. Strangely enough, he was barefoot. Commonly enough, he was scowling. "Woman, just _where_ do you think you are going?!"

Bulma gasped and planted two hands in between them, one on either side of the flat pectoral muscles making up the expanse of his chest. Shoving herself away, she brought one hand up to still the rapid beating of her heart. Her eyes immediately narrowed, and she fought the urge to slap the rage right out his face so he would understand hers. "You JERK!"

"Some hello. Do you always greet everyone like that?" Even though the burgeoning fury created twin slits of ebony malachite in his burning orbs, he still made sure to take her through her paces when instigating an argument.

"Ass. What the hell is wrong with you? Do you know I've been wondering just where you were these last few days? I even called Goku's house!"

Vegeta's eyes widened for a split second, before knitting together again. "You called Kakkarot, in hopes of finding me there? Are you truly that much of an idiot?"

"You go there for a good spar every now and then, and you know it. It was the last place I could think of." She grated out each word, her shoulders tensed as if she would sock him one at any given moment.

"...Only because the fool insists on it. There is no greater match for him than myself, and he knows it."

Wishing she could deflate his bulging ego, Bulma continued to vent her anger. "He's still better than you, and always will be. End of story." As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she wished she could take them back.

He growled, a bestial sound that emanated from deep within his vocal chords. "I do not need to be reminded of that, woman. I thought you had more sense than that."

Bulma shook her head quickly. She was already furious with him, and by the looks of it, it was mutual. Things didn't need to go from bad to worse. Lately, all they ever seemed to do was fight over tiny, insignificant matters. "Fine, fine." She voiced her resignation from the topic, switching gears a second before she queried, "...So what made you decide to come out from your hiding place and find me?"

Vegeta's lower lip curled at the implication that he had been 'hiding'. Wisely, he chose to overlook it for the present and concentrate on the main subject. "Simple. The Gravity Room is broken. There are wires all over the floor. I would have never thought you so petty that you would act out such a childish prank, but once again you have surpassed my expectations." The heavy satire was fairly dripping off his sentences.

"WHAT!?" Bulma screeched, rocking the heavens themselves with her cry. She pushed him aside, intent on moving past him in a beeline for the GR. She didn't think it possible that such a thing could actually be. After all, had she not checked the empty chamber a few hours ago, only to be assured of its state then? Unfortunately, she didn't get very far when her mate reached out and grabbed a trailing wrist. Her jerked her back a few stumbling steps, forcing her to look at him.

He seemed amused, but in a bitter way. "By your reaction I can only guess you didn't know?"

Bulma glared at Vegeta indignantly, "Of course not! If you are so stupid as to believe that I would mess up your precious Gravity Room, only to be forced to fix it later and further waste my time, then you are out of your mind!" That said, she tugged at the wrist he had wrapped a fist around, making a sharp bend to the left just outside the door when he complied.

She was the first to reach the scene, as Vegeta followed in her panicked wake like a lazy predator that had all the time in the world to catch up. She stood in the entrance to the GR, eyes impossibly wide as they registered the havoc. A rainbow of multihued wires were strewn across the floor, originating from the keypad that controlled the gravity levels. It was as if something had come along with an appetite for circuitry, as the various wires looked like the gutted entrails of some mechanical animal. Bulma nearly dropped to her knees as she finally took in the whole of the carnage, and it was only Vegeta's steadying hands on her shoulders that kept her from wavering too much. He smirked, and even though she couldn't see it, she could tell he was really displeased with the entire affair. "What is it that Bra likes to say so often..? I told you so..?"

Bulma barely heard him. After the shock passed, she turned to study his features appraisingly. "Who.. did.. this.." Each word had a separate bite to it, and she was trembling with sheer anger. The GR was one of the things she worked hard on and prided herself in. She made sure it was always running in good order, no matter what. Sure, she might bitch and complain about its very existence at times, but that was only because Vegeta made sure that she knew it needed repair when it broke down. To have such a tantamount to her skills destroyed.. well, it was the final straw. "I swear to Kami, Vegeta, if I find out you did this..."

She was rudely interrupted by a snort. "For once woman, think. Why would I destroy the one thing I actually find appealing on this mud ball?" Bulma shot daggers at him through an unspoken glare, and he merely chuffed in amusement. The humor didn't last long, for the seriousness of the entire ordeal quickly brought him back up to speed with his disdain. "Fix it."

"What??!" Her eyes swept the floor, gluing themselves to the severed wires. "This is no normal glitch, Vegeta. Those wires were a special order. It would take at least six weeks for new ones to arrive in the mail.."

Silence lapsed in between them. The only sound was the rustle of clothing as Bulma crossed her arms against her chest, awaiting the storm that was sure to follow.

To her surprise and slight chagrin, he seemed calm. He spoke quietly, as if that alone took a battle of wills. "Are you telling me that I won't be able to train for six weeks?"

She nodded her affirmation. "At least." A cringe.

Vegeta brought his fists up before him, gripping so tightly that the blood in his knuckles ran white. "...And you expect me to settle for this!?" His voice rose, nearly shaking the chamber walls.

As his voice skyrocketed, so did all of her rage. "You aren't the only one suffering here, buddy! If you haven't figured it out already, no Gravity Room means I'll have to put up with all of your crap during that period." She breathed deeply, counting back to ten as she got a hold of her composure again. Stepping up to him, she settled a gentle hand on the ball of his shoulder. "Look, it can't be all bad. I'll take a look at what I've got here, and then maybe I can do something about it instead of waiting for the new wires. In the meantime, you could actually spend some time with your kids, Kami forbid."

The thick muscles in the shoulder beneath her palm contracted for a brief eternity, and then loosed as he absorbed what she had said. "You had better take a look at it soon, woman. I am _not_ a patient man."

Bulma just rolled her eyes. "Duh." She began to remove her hand.

Vegeta cast her an angry frown, before catching her wrist again as he had back in the lab. This time around he simply held it in front of them, instead of bringing her up against him. His eyes darted back and forth, searching her face. Curious, she stared back over at his, which was unreadable as always. He almost said something, but appeared to think better of it as his lips sealed a firm line on his face.

Bulma observed Vegeta carefully, before landing a look on the contact his grip had on her wrist. In a soft undertone, she spoke at last. "What's wrong, Vegeta?"

Vegeta's throat muscles convulsed as he tried to speak, as if forcing himself to bring ideas into words. He failed again, and then just shook his head in finality. He let go of her arm abruptly, letting his hand fall away.

Bulma smiled, a slow trace of acknowledgement breaking the ice. She reached up of her own accord, tenderly tracing the stern line of his jaw with her fingertips. His eyes were glued to the hand that touched him now, never wavering. Stepping closer, she wound her arms around his neck and leaned in to brush a gentle kiss against his lips. Drawing away, she nodded yet again before whispering, "I missed you too."

Vegeta was really never one for pleasantries. Without skipping a beat, he grabbed Bulma by the waist and brought her as close as physically possible, crushing her lips against his as his strong arms folded her into a tight embrace. She canted her head to the side, bringing her mouth in at a better angle as she felt the first probe of his tongue enter past the barrier of her teeth. The slick, gliding motion of the two tongues tangling with one another brought a rising heat from within Bulma. Over the past days she had been too caught up with other things to actually realize how much she missed the closeness. As the two came up for air, Bulma felt an exhale of hot breath stir the fine blue hairs growing at the top of her forehead. "I know. Who wouldn't?"

She laughed mirthfully and socked him in the chest for it. "Besides me, I could name quite a few people that could say otherwise."

He smirked, creating that facial expression she had both grown to love and hate at the same time. "We can't get distracted. You need to fix the Gravity Room and make me dinner."

Her smile faltered, and was then wiped clean as she pushed roughly away from him in disgust. Her playful demeanor was completely gone when she cried, "Ugh! Vegeta, you are such a-"

He laughed before she could finish the statement, causing a low, smug baritone to erupt from within the contained space that they currently stood in. "Just make sure it gets done in due time." His expression darkened, his lips twisting into a sneer, "...Or it won't be a very pleasant experience for you or the brats." He stepped closer to her menacingly, even after she had put a distance between them.

She could buy _that._ "Fine. I'll go see what I can gather for tools." Her clipped speech was the last sound she made before storming back to her laboratory. She could almost feel his sliding, masochistic smirk burning a hole in her back.

_He really is the Prince of all Jerks_, she thought.

No sooner had she made it back to her laboratory and flicked on the overhead lights when her jaw fell open in a silent scream...

-AN: Chapter 6 complete. R&R! What comes next? Well, you'll just have to wait on that one. ~_^

Disclaimer: You know how this goes...


	7. Joyride

Doubts: Chapter 7

At about the time Bulma found her voice and was screaming Vegeta's name so loud everyone in the surrounding galaxy was sure to hear her distress, a daring duo was making a getaway from the crime scene via a certain motorcycle. Bra had her arms firmly entwined around Pan's waist, while leaning fearfully into the older girl's backside. Pan's medium-length hair was whipping behind her like a short black banner, searing the sensitive skin of Bra's face. Pan was gunning the bike like a bat out of hell, barely able to see over the handlebars. 

Once Bra had discovered that Pan knew how to operate motorized vehicles to some small extent due to some training by Videl, she had nearly exploded with excitement. By now the pair was guilty of three separate, yet linked crimes against the Briefs' household. Not only had they dissected the GR with Bra's expertise and intimate knowledge of the area, they had also raided the fridge of all its contents. This fact was characterized by the four large trash bags attached to the flying motorcycle, two on each side. They were attached by several rounds of rope that the two had found while laying siege to the lab, which had been their last stop. With the motorcycle finally out of the way, Bra's goal to bring her parents together could be reached. Once they had gone far enough (which would be voiced by Bra once she felt certain of the surrounding area), the pair would ditch the bike and the stolen loot by the wayside. As soon as was possible, they would then return to Capsule Corp. and enter the compound through the back door. If the adult inhabitants knew about their scheme by the time they had ditched the motorcycle, Bra felt they wouldn't notice the absence of the two girls. Bulma, Vegeta, Dr. and Mrs. Briefs would be so completely engrossed in their dilemma, Bra reasoned, that their return would go completely unnoticed. After everything had settled, Bra's parents would be inseparable. This, in much simpler terms, was how Bra convinced Pan of how it would truly turn out.

As the gelatinous bags of edible foodstuff bounced and jiggled on either side of the motorcycle each and every time they hit even a minute bump, Pan recalled how she had been so set against the idea. They hadn't had much time to do anything, save set things in motion at Bra's insistence. Bra still owed her a sparring session, and for Gohan's daughter to help pull the wool over both Bulma and Vegeta, _especially_ Vegeta, it would have to be one _good_ session. At present, however, she felt an uncommon rush of adrenaline. The wind stinging her face, the sound of the motorcycle beneath her, and Bra's clutch about her midriff brought about an elation and liberation she had never felt before. They were currently free of restrictions and rules of any sort, without anything binding them to space and time. They were simply _free_.

An urgent tapping at the midpoint of her back brought her back to reality. Bra was giving her the unspoken signal to slow down. They must have been at least ten miles from C.C. grounds. Since that time, they had steadily climbed into a hilly stretch of train, marked by the rush of scenery in a gradual incline. Pan applied the brakes, slowing the bike until it came to a slow coast upon a ridge overlooking the flatter earth far below. From this point they could see tiny dots that were individual houses. Together, the houses made up an entire town, appearing as if someone had spread out a gigantic, three-dimensional map before their eyes. It was much cooler at their altitude, and Pan could have sworn Bra clung even closer to her than before, shivering a bit in the process.

As the bike came to a stop and teetered heavily on one side from the lack of balance, Pan lost control. It had been easy to mount the contraption with the kickstand already in place, but she wasn't quite tall enough to keep the motorcycle upright. Bra gave a startled cry as she tipped violently to the right, taking up the example Pan made of practically leaping from the downed piece of machinery. They barely escaped the demise of being crushed beneath the motorcycle, just by a fraction of an inch. Panting, the two hit the ground in a graceless tumble that sent them sprawling in a tangle of arms and limbs.

Bra was the first to speak. "Owww! Pan, get off me!"

Pan bemoaned her state and grabbed Bra's ankle, forcing it out of her face. She had been so close to having a foot in her mouth, literally. "You should talk!"

The two rolled apart after a few more seconds of fussing. Wisps of errant blue hair fell in disarray about Bra's face, which was smudged with grass stains and dirt. Her normally clean clothes didn't fare much better. Frowning bravely down at the scratches and abrasions that formed a random pattern on her palms, arms and legs, Bra wistfully commented, "Good stop, Pan."

"Quiet!" Came the indignant reply. "You can't even drive, so you wouldn't do much better!" Pan was lying on her side, propping herself up on her hands. Her bandanna hung loosely about her neck, as it had dislodged itself from her head sometime during the fall. She reached up to straighten the article of cloth, scowling all the while.

"Whatever. Let's just get rid of the food before..."

Both turned their eyes on the bags containing the perishables, but it was to their great disconcertment that they realized they had squashed half the loot beneath the motorcycle. The thin plastic containers that had held the remaining half had been flung loose with the force of the motorcycle hitting the ground. The bags had been torn apart when their fragile surface area contacted a grouping of jagged rocks further down the embankment. Food lay about them in clusters of buns, broken milk bottles, sauces and other miscellaneous items. The two shared a stunned look, and then cried in unison, "Oh no!"

Pan was the first to push herself to her feet. She wavered a bit, and then wrung her scraped hands helplessly before her. "Oh man, Bra! We are _so_ dead. When your dad finds out what we did to his GR and food, we won't even have enough time to explain! We'll just be toast!"

Bra was obviously shaken, but still undeterred. Under any other circumstance, she would have been bawling about the diminutive damage she had taken. For once, she owned up to the fact that it had been her idea to do the escapade in the first place. Besides that, the look on Pan's face settled any doubts she had about whom had to be the strong one in that instant. "It's ok, Pan. Don't worry. Daddy won't never know!"

A downward turn of Pan's mouth announced her reservations about that statement. "It's not just him that I'm scared of. Your mom will go crazy, and so will my parents! My mom will kill me, if your dad doesn't finish it first!" Despite her rambling, Pan was secretly impressed by the show of bravado that Bra put up. She had matured since Pan's last visit. In that short time, she had transformed from a whiny, conceited child to a confident individual with a penchant to actually show some inner strength now and again. She still appeared much the same, with the same girlish personality and lack of common sense, but something had definitely changed.

Bra put her hands on her hips, emulating her mother's usual stance. "Let's just leave it. They might find it later, but who cares? We still have a chance to get away."

It was a good point. The longer they stayed to mourn the damage, the greater the probability was of being caught. "Ok, ok. Let's start heading back. If they ask us if we know anything about it, we'll just say it was teenagers."

"Yeah, teenagers." Bra echoed. They nodded simultaneously to each other, accepting it as feasible excuse. They began to walk back down the road, side by side. Neither looked back, afraid to do so. Sometime during the silence that had settled between them, Pan sneaked a glance over to Bra. When she realized Bra was already looking at her with a smile painting her lips, she blinked.

"What are you staring at me for?"

"I was thinking."

"About what?"

"...About how I like having you for a friend."

"You think?" Pan's somber expression melted away into a tiny grin. Roused by the confidence Bra had in the situation, she felt the stirrings of a belief that they might actually get through the experience unscathed.

"I do." It was the easy, simplistic assent of a young girl, yet it meant everything at the same time.

A few more seconds ticked by, before Pan spoke again. "You know what?"

"What?"

"I think you aren't so bad yourself."

"You like me, too?"

"Yeah."

Bra didn't need to hear another word; she understood perfectly. With this newfound knowledge, the two continued down the road, following the formidable stretch of white line that bordered the edge of the roadside. Theirs was a comfortable silence, filled only with a single misgiving related to their prior action. Ten miles was a _long_ way to walk without a motorcycle to ride.

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Back at Capsule Corp., a few minutes earlier...

"VEGEEEETA!!!" Bulma's scream cut through the mansion's airwaves, where around that same time she heard a roar from the kitchen that overrode her banshee's call by a few decibels.

"WOMAN!!!"

Following to the source the thunderous shout, Bulma entered the kitchen, cheeks flushed with a bewilderment that she had carried over from laboratory. The motorcycle that she had so diligently worked on those past few days was now nonexistent to the place she had last left it. What could have caused Vegeta to yell so loudly, after she had just been wronged twice in a row?

She had the answer sooner than she would have liked it. As soon as Vegeta stood aside and revealed the empty box known as the refrigerator, she could have let her jaw hit the floor a second time in a row. The Saiyan had been clearly frustrated with the events that had occurred within the Gravity Room, but right now he was ready to go on the warpath. He had powered up sometime between the first time she had spared him a glance and the seconds she had spent looking at the refrigerator in disbelief. His eyebrows had dipped dangerously, creating several creases where they intersected. His voice spat out, "Explain this."

"Oh, Kami." Bulma brought two paired fingertips to stop the trembling of her lower lip. She stared at the uncommon spaciousness found in both the lower and upper half of the fridge, dumbfounded.

Vegeta didn't take the lapse in speech that followed too well. "Tell me, _who_ did this!?" Power crackled and fizzed about him, while his black eyes glinted murderously.

Bulma struggled to rise above her open dismay, barely gaining enough ground to utter a few sentences in her defense, "You think I know, Vegeta? I was just about to ask you where my motorcycle went?"

"WHAT?"

She crossed her arms firmly against her chest, nodding matter-of-factly. "My motorcycle. It's missing."

Vegeta clenched his jaw, and skimmed a cutting glare about the room. He powered down to normal, and straightened up. "What the hell is going on around here?!"

"Damned if I know. I was just about to ask you the same thing."

"It is bad enough that the Gravity Room is out of commission, but I will not stand for a house without a morsel of food to be found!"

Bulma smothered the urge to make some satirical comment about his enormous appetite, but it was hard. To some extent, she agreed with him, although she felt the destruction of the Gravity Room and the theft of her motorcycle to be of far more importance. It didn't really matter, since their frustrations merged perfectly in the end. "Who could have done these things?"

"What about your bumbling excuse for a father and his empty-headed spouse?"

"**_Vegeta!_**" Her shriek hit the roof. "Don't you _dare_ go talking about my parents in that manner! They wouldn't stoop so low as to pull such immature pranks. I would expect it out of you before I ever considered it of them!"

His response was cut and dry, but still blatantly enraged at the accusation. "Don't be a fool, woman! You honestly believe I would have such an insane motive that would cause me to go destroy my training chamber, and then send me into the kitchen to dispose of any and all food?!"

Bulma frowned, sending a withering look his way. "Even you aren't that crazy." She thought it over, rubbing the base of her chin pensively. Wondering aloud, she questioned, "If it wasn't you or me, or even my parents, who does that leave?"

Vegeta slammed the doors to the refrigerator with such a force that they rebounded with the frame and flew open again. He frowned, and then extended one hand to shut them both with more caution, making sure that they sealed shut the second time around. Sneering, he attempted at humor but failed miserably in all but one aspect. "I don't know. How about your daughter and her sorry excuse for a friend?" He had unknowingly hit the nail on the head.

Bulma shook her head, ready to shrug off what she knew he meant as a poor jest. "I mean, who could have...wait a minute. Just _where_ are the girls? I haven't heard from them since lunch..."

Vegeta stiffened, and he appeared to be concentrating for the span of a second. When he came to his answer, his eyes widened visibly and he strode purposefully forward. "They aren't here!"

Panic seized Bulma like an invisible fist. She chased after him, even after he had exited the kitchen. "What do you mean, they aren't here?!"

"Just what I said, woman!" He gritted his teeth, grating the lower half against the upper in annoyance. "I can't feel Bra's ki anymore." The minute he admitted that, he felt a cold feeling settle into the pit of his stomach, followed by a new sense of desperation. He didn't show it outwardly, but this didn't fool Bulma in the least. She knew that he was just as stricken as she was at that particular moment in time. The welfare of their child hung in the balance, and all other things were quickly pushed to the sidelines.

Bulma paled several shades lighter than she was already. "Oh no! What about Pan?"

"Not a thing." He didn't appear to like the growing conclusion anymore than she. As their rapid conversation passed back and forth with a growing urgency, they moved out to the front yard of the Capsule Corporation compound. Once there, Vegeta tensed to take off into the air. He was halted by a hand on his shoulder, which froze him in place.

"Oh no, you don't! I'm not going to rot here and wait for you to get back here. I'd worry myself to death!" She drew in a breath quickly, and then added, "I'm coming with you."

Vegeta gave her a black look but brooked no argument with her. Without responding, he bent at the knees and scooped her up with one arm beneath her knees and the other at her back. Bulma wound her arms around his strong neck, more for balance and security than anything. Vegeta seemed to of already honed in on something, because he expectantly faced due north, as if testing the wind. No more words traveled between the aggravated parents as Vegeta shot into the sky, save for the startled gasp from Bulma.

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A few miles from the C.C. mansion...

"Pan?"

"Yeah?"

"My feet hurt."

Pan glanced back over her shoulder, eyeing the wreck from a distance. "Uh, Bra?"

"Yeah?"

"I can still see the motorcycle. We didn't go that far yet."

Bra let out a low whine, a piteous sound that was meant to evoke sympathy from the closest listener. Unfortunately, the only audience she had was a disgruntled Pan, who was in the same boat and unlikely to give any measure of support at that point. Even though they had come to a new understanding in their relationship, it didn't mean that things couldn't be as they always were between them.

Pan was completely disinterested in Bra's pleas for relief. "Look, you got us into this mess, so we're just going to have to get through it."

"But... but..." Bra blundered, her eyes flicking deftly to and fro to the slow passage of their surroundings.

"No buts! You were the one who came up with this dumb idea in the first place!"

Bra was quick to protest, "It wasn't dumb! It'll work, you'll see!"

Pan sighed deeply and shook her head. Her previous aspirations to getting through the scheme without mishap were falling through the roof. Was she so desperate for a single spar with the unproven Bra that she would actually incur Vegeta, Bulma and her parent's wrath so easily? She didn't want to answer that, she feared she already knew it all too well. As she pondered this, she was startled by Bra shaking her shoulder with a feverish insistence.

"Pan!" Her voice was a hushed whisper.

"What?"

"Be quiet! There's a little man walking towards us. He looks scary."

Pan blinked several times, and then turned her face forward. Squinting several times, she peered out down the cooling stretch of tar. Darkness was quickly descending on the world, which made it hard to discern detail at all. Even so, she could clearly make out the shuffling outline of a shadowy figure, which was obviously male. The telltale signs of broad shoulders, a bald head, and a beard gave that impression away immediately. Other than that, there was more than half a kilometer between the form and the girls. This in itself was quickly dwindling by the second. The man in ragged attire seemed to pick up his pace, blatantly aware of the two girls ahead.

"What do you think he wants?" It was Bra again.

Pan closed her voice down to a low pitch, "I don't know!"

"I wish I could fly like daddy."

Pan could only nod as she thought of her own father.

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Man, what I'd do to have dad and mom here right now!

The hunched silhouette drew inexorably nearer, his gait changing into that of which could only be described as a trot, like that of a horse. The girls traded uneasy glances.

-AN: Chapter 7 finished. At this point, I'm wondering if I should continue this story. If you want me to keep writing, drop me a line and let me know. It would be nice to know if people are still following this at all. Thanks a bunch!

Disclaimer: Usual stuff. I don't own DB, the characters, ect.


	8. Desperation

Doubts: Chapter 8

He was a vagrant. He wandered listlessly from city and hamlet alike, finding neither solace nor camaraderie in either. At times he would hop trains, hitchhike... whatever moved him from country to city and then back again in a timeless waltz only those of his station would understand. There was no name for one such as he; any true name that was applied to him was quickly lost as he traveled from area to area. There were a great many other names, of course, but none that he was ultimately fond of. 

He was many things, and well known for them, too. Those that had the misfortune of crossing his path could describe him as a beggar, cheat, thief, con-artist, and manipulator. He hadn't had the chance to earn titles even lower on that sunken scale, but he was always up for the challenge. To his great, twisted delight, he had found that fate smiled upon him yet again through her few, golden teeth. The two females that had passed him almost half an hour ago were now without their precious mode of transportation. The little miscreants had nearly sideswiped him as he had ambled along, minding his own business. With a desperate hop based solely on luck, he had managed to avert his person from their poor steering abilities. In fact, they had barely noticed him at all as they had zipped on ahead. He was used to going unnoticed and undefined, but no one would put him in harm's way and act like it never happened. No one, he silently vowed.

So now here they were on foot, without the speed and agility of their fancy, polished motorbike. As he came closer to their slight forms, he finally began to see how young they appeared. He did not know what they were doing without their motorcycle, or how even ones of their age group had managed to drive such a thing, but he did get the impression that they were of some wealth. After all, what kind of parents would give their young children a brand new motorcycle to go gallivanting about in? The answer was simple. Those were the people with far too much spare cash on the side. Therefore, it only led him to believe that if he got his mitts on those girls, he could enact a whopping sum.

He had to play it carefully. One wrong move and the two could reasonably give him some grief. He had never been a kidnapper, molester or murderer, but he would do what he had to if the situation called for it.

On the girls' side of things, the creepy, middle-aged man was nothing but another obstacle to overcome. He was uncalled for and unwanted, but they would have to deal with him anyhow. With less than a quarter of a kilometer between them now, Bra darted a frantic hand out to Pan, clamping it down on the crook of her elbow. Still whispering in muted tones, she exclaimed, "I think we should head off the road, Pan! That man.. he scares me!"

Pan attempted to shake the hand off in exasperation. "Stop it, Bra! He'll hear you!"

Indeed, it was too late. Although he couldn't hear the full length of their quiet banter, the hitchhiker picked up snippets. 'He'll hear you!' hit him loud and clear.

Briskly staunching off the last of the meters that dwindled in the gap between himself and the children, the man stopped only when he had breached their range of personal space. With a deep, sweeping bow, he gave a crooked grin down at the pair. "Evenin', ladies."

Pan and Bra came to a sudden halt, their jaws going slack. Now that they were so close, they took in the irregularities of his appearance and demeanor. The irises of his eyes were not twins of each other, as the left was a muddy brown, leaving the right to the color of an indistinguishable gray. Potholes dotted the exaggeratedly large chunk of cartilage that was known as his nose, while his beard hung in gnarls of greasy face-fur. At the same time, he greeted them courteously, which was in a manner inconsistent with the way he appeared.

Pan spoke first, bravely putting the younger girl behind her while she backed them both up a few paces by pushing against Bra steadily in reverse. "Uh, hey.."

"Yeah, hi.." Bra seconded.

A maniacal gleam transversed the extent of the man's mismatched eyes. "You two made quite the impression on your motorcycle a little while back. I was impressed by your driving." As the bum lied through his teeth, he was unaware of the fact that the motorcycle in question was still fully function, albeit scratched and dinged. Not only that, but it was surrounded by better food than he had seen in a month's time. If he had known that, he just might of given up on the two kids, opting to satiate his needs and wants sooner, while going to less trouble for it.

"You really think?" Bra chirped, instantly warming up to the man by his flattery.

Pan was not so convinced. "Yeah, uh, thanks. We need to be going now." She grabbed Bra by her upper arm, hauling her along a large, invisible circumference that she had created around the filthy vagrant.

Bra gave the man a helpless little wave, as well as one of those sickeningly sugar-sweet smiles that she was famous for. "Nice to meet you. Bye!"

"Now, just wait a darn minute!" The disparaged man's voice rose, carrying a commanding note. Both girls froze in their tracks as he reached out to them. Like deer frozen in headlights, they stared in terror and disgust as his grimy digits floated closer and closer like detached tendrils. Dirt was imbedded beneath his fingernails, and his palms were encrusted with the remnants of dried sweat and more filth.

Bra zeroed in on this facet instantly, and let anyone within earshot know her opinion on the matter. "Ewww!" Without anymore urging by Pan, she was already struggling to put distance between herself and the unclean male.

Pan had dropped into a defensive crouch, releasing Bra to put up her hands before her. They tightened into fists, while her eyes narrowed. Despite the rapid beating of her heart, reminiscent of a caged hummingbird, she stood her ground. She had been trained to fight, and even though the strange, little man before her was a head or so taller, she was ready to take him on if need be. Underneath it all, she was scared to death. Never before had she so desperately depended on the training her father and mother handed down to her.

The hitchhiker watched as the ebony-haired child prepared to fight him. He rubbed his hands together, and then cracked them lewdly. All pretenses had vanished within a wisp of smoke. "Little baby wants to fight?" He couldn't believe the absurdity. "Bring it on."

"Get out of here, Bra!" It was Pan calling over her shoulder to the frightened six-year-old standing just behind her.

Bra swallowed, feeling the blood pumping to her ears like a savage drumbeat. She was scared, there was no doubt about that, but something else kept her glued to the spot in which she still stood. She couldn't leave Pan to fight that monster all by herself, no way. At the same time, she knew she had no knowledge of martial arts skills whatsoever. It didn't matter much to her, in the end. It was a time of duress, and Bra saw Pan as her best friend. She couldn't leave her hanging, no matter what happened.

When no answer came on Bra's behalf, Pan forced herself to keep her eyes on the cold creature directly in front of her. One measly slip and it would all be over before it had even begun. "I said _run_, Bra!"

"NO!" Bra cried, jumping forward so that she was even with Pan. "I'm not leaving you with him!"

The hitchhiker shook his head at the piteous display that was transpiring before him. The way those girls acted, one could have sworn that they actually believed they had a chance against him. "This is so sweet," he intoned darkly, his veiled gaze switching back and forth between Bra and Pan, "..But I have no time for semantics. Time to come with me, kiddies." He latched a hand onto Pan's shoulder first, being she was the closest to him and likely to give him the most trouble by a scant margin.

Before he even knew what hit him, Pan had issued a battle cry and let him sample the taste of a round kick to the temple. He staggered back, eyes bulging and protruding comically from their small sockets. One hand went to steady the burning throb in his skull, while he shouted, "You little bitch! You'll pay for that!" Lunging forward, he dived for the girl, arms wide and foreboding.

His overt attention was thanked by an uppercut to the chin on the second attack. His head reeled backwards, snapping skyward with a click. Stunned, he wasted a few precious moments by getting his bearings straight and holding his ugly mug in his hands. Distantly, he could hear the younger one cheering the black-haired child on.

"Yeah, Pan! You show him who's boss!"

Yes, the smaller girl. He had no idea that the older one possessed any fighting technique whatsoever, but the younger was definitely more naive. He doubted that she knew how to defend herself at all, foretold by the way she hid behind the brat that had hit him. As the first rivulet of crimson blood made its way down the corner of his hairy mouth, he turned on them again. The smile he wore stopped them in their tracks. Without warning, he charged a third time.

Pan was momentarily taken off guard by the funny, little grin he had worn. She hadn't expected it, and the act alone dropped her defense for a moment or two. That was all the vagrant needed. He shoved Pan to her knees by ramming a greasy fist into her chest. She collapsed, winded. It was all she could do to watch as he grabbed a horrified Bra by the collar of her dress and lifted her as if she weighed nothing. As Bra dangled like a rag doll over the man's beaten and bruised noggin, he laughed contentedly at his accomplishment. The blue-haired girl kicked and struggled, fighting to free herself as the first tears sprung to her eyes. "Lemme go!!!"

Coughing and forcing her contorted lungs to draw breath, Pan drew upon the last of her strength to drive herself to her feet. She took one shaky step towards the wanderer that held Bra, before her knees gave out. Her kneecaps hit the hard asphalt a second time, the muscles weak from the lack of oxygen her lungs would not supply.

In the meantime, the grimy man was flinging Bra back and forth, causing the girl to swing back and forth through the air. The constriction of her collar about her neck began to create deep red welts, while the material cut into her skin with each jerk. She was sobbing openly now, but for once she didn't shut her eyes to do it. While the man brayed his triumph, she watched carefully for the exact moment that one of her legs came into the airspace near his head. One good kick and... there! Taking her opportunity, tears still trailing freely down the contours of her cheeks, Bra landed the front of a small, closed-toed shoe into the hitchhiker's mouth. He let out a strangled cry as she broke several teeth, shattering his jaw like glass. The man let go in complete agony, temporarily forgetting about his prey. Bra dropped to the ground, landing in a heap at his feet.

Once firmly back on the ground, Bra stood upright in one swift motion. She raced to Pan, crying in near-hysterics. Pan had by then reached a certain point where a bit of breathing was possible if done slowly and carefully, but the surprise at what Bra had done was temporarily causing her to forget to do that at all. "C'mon, Pan! We- we- gotta go!" Bra wiped at her reddening face, trying in vain to remove the blurry tears from her eyes.

Pan nodded, not quite ready to speak yet. With a little help from Bra, she stood and the two made their way around the man, who had by then sunk to his knees. He was grappling at his lower face and beard, making gurgling protests within his throat. His beady eyes were bloodshot, and his own red fluid had escaped their capillaries to spill down the front of his gray beard, matting it to his shirt. His bulbous orbs were rolling uncontrollably about him, as if he had completely gone stark raving mad. As far as the girls knew, he had already been from the beginning.

They left him there, gasping themselves as they took off at the fastest pace possible down the road. Pan had recovered well for the blow she had taken, but it wasn't enough to keep a good speed going. Bra wasn't doing much better, still convulsing with sobs and unable to go full throttle with the emotional torment assailing her mind. Still, they made a point to hold hands as they moved on at the best rate possible. They never really got very far.

Something fell from the sky with such a force that it rendered them blind for a span of seconds. They both felt a familiar presence and a steady, pulsating ki that reeked of power. A voice drifted through their muddled senses, a cry of relief. "BRA! PAN!" It was Bulma's voice.

The next thing Bra knew, she was being scooped up yet again, only the hands that held her now were gentle and meant her no harm. Bulma wrapped her child in her embrace, squeezing her against her chest the moment Vegeta set her down. Bra sniffled once, letting herself fall into the deep feeling of security that wrapped about her like a fuzzy blanket. She began to bawl again, harder than ever.

Pan eyed Bulma and Vegeta, before closing the gap between herself, Bulma and Bra. It felt so good to be near them again... people she knew and trusted. Yes, even she was glad to see Vegeta at that particular moment. It was nothing she would admit aloud, but he was definitely runner up to having either Goku, Gohan or Videl present. Taking a few more shallow sips of air, Pan collapsed heavily against Bulma and Bra in pure relief. She shared the same emotion as the other two in the heaviest of doses, and the long gazes they shared let each other know it.

While Bulma encompassed Pan into the hug she shared with Bra, Vegeta took the time to unfold the scene piece by piece. Upon pinpointing his daughter and her friend's ki, he had landed only to be greeted by a panting Pan and a weeping Bra. If Pan were not there, he just might have bended to the overwhelming instinct of thoroughly checking over his daughter for signs of damage or harm. As he spared a look to the three females, he could tell that Bulma had by now already taken up the initiative with them. His blood boiled at the stunt they had pulled, and what was worse was that he had no idea of what led them to act as they did now. His mate's concerned voice soon drifted through his calculations, interrupting his train of thoughts. Only then did he sense a fourth ki that was not his own. His head snapped upright, his eyes narrowing down at the tremulous form of a slouched man a few meters up the road. He began to put two and two together.

"Oh, Pan! Lean against me, don't strain yourself..." A pause, and then, "Oh, sweetie! What are those awful marks on your neck?!" Even Bulma sounded as if she were on the verge of tears with these new findings.

Lightning arced and cracked around the Saiyan, his power boosting beyond what it usually did, fed by the rage and disgust that dampened his better logic. He did not waste words on what would happen next, nor did he dally any longer next to Bulma, Pan and Bra. He was beyond reasoning, even if they had said something about his behavior. It wouldn't have mattered, anyways. Not any one of Earth's strongest armies could have even delayed the inevitable.

Vegeta stalked forward towards the vagrant, hell-bent on redemption for the fate of the two girls.

-AN: Thanks for all the reviews, guys! I'll keep going and finish, not to worry. As soon as this story ends, I'm going to begin a new one that will be far longer. I know lots of people have done this before, but I want to actually write a fanfic about Vegeta and Bulma during those infamous first three years. Whaddya think? Thanks!

Disclaimer: You know how this goes...


	9. Unwraveling

Doubts: Chapter 9

The pain of a shattered jaw exceeded the vagrant's deepest imagination. Everything became red-tinged and blurry. He could barely comprehend what was going on around him, much less bear witness to the enraged advance of a certain alien who was still several feet off. His dusky hands scrabbled uselessly against the stringy mat of his beard and blood, while his whisky-damaged brain gave off unbearable bursts of agony. It was only when Vegeta had stopped right in front of the man that he spied the tips of the Saiyan's boots. Eyes laced with crimson marbling rolled upward loosely, reflecting momentarily on his ultimate demise.

Vegeta did not waste a single second. Without the slightest bit of empathy for the wound the vagabond had incurred, he bent at the knees long enough to secure the bottom plane of the man's jaw, right in conjunction with his jugular. He lifted easily, bringing the shocked man up into the air. A bloodcurdling howl erupted from the man's throat, a sound that seemed more animal than human. Anyone with any pity at all would have put him out of his misery right then and there, but apparently that particular emotion was always one far from Vegeta's mind in the first place. 

As the unnamed man fought with his aggressor and let his scream fall into a bubbling mass of incoherent gurgles, Bra finally looked up from where she had placed her forehead against Bulma's right shoulder. As an intersecting weave of trailing tears filtered down her cheeks, she watched with a mix of awe and horror at the scene before her. Yes, it had been true that she had broken her offender's jawbone in the first place, but the extent of the damage was truly unintentional. Her only motive then was to be free of him, and frankly she did what had to be done. When Pan had fought him prior to that, he had always got back on his feet, without any true damage to speak of save a little blood. The girl had seen fights that both her father and brother participated in before, and so to her it was natural to observe physical damage in that respect. As far as death... well, it was safe to say that even in the farthest reaches of their memories, neither of the girls had truly seen the termination of a life.

Bra turned her head a bit, directing her terrified gaze to Pan. Much to her surprise, Pan was staring right back. Their thoughts echoed through their expressions, and it was only in a moment of revulsion that Bra broke off from her mother, a fresh coat of tears glinting in her eyes. "Daddy! Don't!"

Taken aback by Bra's sudden movement and outburst, Bulma reached out to grab her child, but it was to no avail. Bra was already heading for Vegeta, and Pan stood closer to her friend than she did Bulma at that point, too.

Vegeta was busy calculating a slow end for the vagabond. He barely squeezed his grip on the man's throat, which brought forth another stream of muffled coughs and wheezes. Not only was the man purple in the face and drowning in his own blood, but he was also suffocating by Vegeta's hold. The way the poor human clawed and moved his legs in a useless bicycling motion brought a sneer to the Saiyan's face. It brought back old memories, to say the least. In that it almost felt good, like picking up some old habit that brought relief to stress. Killing was just like that to Vegeta. He could have simply incinerated the filthy creature he held now in an instant, but because of the atrocities committed against his daughter, he would pay. He wanted the man to suffer each moment and feel it for as long as possible... until he heard the high cry of Bra's plea, that was.

Bra had reached the circumference of her father's strong, visible power. Both of her small hands were reaching for him, her eyes begging him to stop. "Please, Daddy! I think he learned his lesson!" Her bright blue eyes were focused on the pathetic form of the bum, who was beginning to cease his struggles as his muscles began to shut down systematically. "He's hurt enough."

Pan rushed forward, standing aside of Bra as she refrained from speaking. Bra was on a role, and Vegeta wouldn't give a damn to any word she said, anyways.

Bulma scuttled to her feet, bringing up the rear behind her child. Putting her hands gently on Bra's shoulders, she raised her eyes affirmatively to Vegeta. Bra was right. If anything, she couldn't allow Vegeta to torture the vagabond to death right in front of both of the girls, no matter what he had done to them. At such a young age, nightmares were the least of her worries. It was unknown what such a thing would do to them mentally, in the long run. As she processed these thoughts, she recalled how Vegeta had been around death and dying at a tender age himself, and with the way he turned out... she didn't need to think over that twice. "Vegeta," her voice breathed, attempting to gain the attention of her mate, "I think you should go give that man a... a... lecture.. about being nicer to children. Don't you?"

Without setting the vagrant back on his feet, he briefly allowed the outer stimuli that Bulma, Bra and Pan presented to enter his cold focus. His head angled over to them, while his voice came out as acidic, "Have you gone completely over the edge, woman?? What kind of..."

He caught 'that look' from Bulma just then. As a heap of nonverbal communication fell back and forth between them, he gritted his teeth. How weak did she think him, that he would actually stop with the lingering demise of the grimy beast he now held in his own hands? Any harm that came to his family would be met with open opposition from his side, but another look at Bra settled any argument he might have had up to that point. Bulma was right; as much as he hated it, he couldn't possibly kill the man in front of Bra or even her half-baked friend, for that matter. It didn't stop him from doing it _elsewhere_, however.

Bulma eyed him specifically again, and that was all the further urging he needed. For appearances only, he loosened the vice-like grip he had on the man's throatlatch. The vagrant sucked in a chilling amount of air, eyes wide and arms flailing once again. It was almost ironic that Vegeta was letting himself ease up on the ascertained fate of the man just now, but it would have to do until Bra and Pan were no longer a watchful audience. It took a tremendous amount of willpower alone not to kill him then and there, but some weak emotion made him unable to go through with it. It was unfortunate that there was a time when he wouldn't have thought twice on the matter, but things had changed since then.

"Yes.." Vegeta stole a glance down to Bra, his mouth set in a grim line. _You had better appreciate this later, kid. _"...I will... _speak_ with him on the subject." Without wasting another second, the Saiyan zipped off in a trail of energy that left a temporary streak in the sky. He would satisfy the coursing anger shooting through his fists in a more suitable location, devoid of witnesses.

Bulma exhaled in a sigh she hadn't realized that she had been holding. Giving a second examination to the relieved girls, one of which who had entirely bought the story of Vegeta 'lecturing' the man on his wrongs, she finally allowed all of her frustrations to spill forth. "You two have **_a lot _**of explaining to do."

Bra dropped her head into her chest, sniffing to gain whatever pity Bulma might have to give her a more lenient sentence. "Yes, Mommy."

Pan shot a look into the sky, suspicion darkening her countenance. Vegeta, chewing that ratty old man out for harming them? Yeah, right. For once, she would be glad to accept whatever punishment that might be handed down to her once her parents got wind of the entire fiasco. 

It was more than she could say for the vagabond.

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Back at the Briefs' residence, much, much later...

"Of all of the stupid, idiotic..." Bulma wore a hole into the tile of the foyer by pacing back and forth. She must have done it a million times since the point that she had gleaned every single tidbit from the girls, from start to finish. She had no patience for Bra's tears by then, for those were old hat. Pan's diversions and reduced eye contact only aggravated her more, but in the end she managed to get down everything. Needless to say, they got quite the scolding. After it was over, she almost felt sorry for Pan. Gohan and Videl's daughter would no doubt have to repeat the consequences of her folly with her own parents.

Now that the girls were in bed and under the watch of an employee for Capsule Corporation, Bulma was anticipating the return of Vegeta. It had taken him a considerable amount of time, even for what she knew he had planned. Truthfully, the knowledge that he was taking his time to kill someone by some nefarious means brought a sickening sink to her stomach. All throughout those many years, and some things still remained strong within him. _You can take the man away from the killing, but never the killing out of the man_, she reminded herself. With shaking hands, she fumbled into the recesses of her business suit to remove a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. She withdrew a single cigarette, bringing it to her lips and lighting up before depositing both the pack and lighter back into the depths of the pocket again. She was now well into her fifties, and had accepted the fact decades ago that those little sticks of nicotine might just be the end to her own life. It didn't much to her then when she started, and it sure as hell didn't matter now. She inhaled smoothly, and then separated the end of the cigarette from her lips as she exhaled a steady stream of smoke into the air. At the same time, she dimly heard the front door open.

"I will never understand why you like those things so much. They foul up the air _I_ happen to breathe."

Bulma's eyes widened considerably and she almost lost the cigarette she held nimbly between two fingers. "Vegeta!" From her vantage point, she could clearly see the blood on his hands. It was dark and had dried in crusting splotches. He stood in the now open door that led out to the front yard of the Capsule Corp. compound, looking the same save for the crimson patches sticking to his digits. She met up with his left side quickly, her eyes asking a silent question that her vocal chords worked to query, "Did you..?" It was dumb thing to ask him, but her mind needed to make that particular closure.

"Of course, woman. Do you actually think I would let him live?" he snapped.

"No, its just... nevermind." She let a fragment of silence hang between them, before shifting gears again. "Bra and Pan admitted to breaking the GR, stealing the food out of the refrigerator and taking the motorcycle." Bulma let it all come out at once, as if afraid to give only snippets at different intervals.

He snorted, apparently indifferent to shock or surprise. "I had a hunch they were up to no good."

"As if!" Bulma retorted, shaking her head. "You didn't have a clue. Naturally, it was I who thought it a possibility."

He muttered something beneath his breath, stalking past her to enter the kitchen. She briefly heard the sound of running water from the tap, and then she took the initiative to follow after him. "What are you doing?"

"Getting that low creature's blood off my skin, what else?" Vegeta stated it as if he was explaining it to a mere child, not a full grown woman that happened to be a genius.

Bulma grated her upper set of teeth against the lower, before authoritively crossing her arms against the fabric of her beige suit. "Are you trying to avoid the topic, or something? While you were taking your time out there, I had to do the hard part and scold those two."

"The hard part? You chew out two children, and you proclaim it as hard? You do that on a day to day basis with everyone, woman. It should come naturally to you by now." He spoke as if he were chewing on broken glass and spitting out shrapnel.

Bulma made an inarticulate sound at the back of her throat. The nerve! "Whatever, monkey man. The only reason I get stuck with that part is because you don't even have a basic understanding of morals!"

"Are you questioning my sense of justice?" The Saiyan's voice had taken a warm, low undercurrent that swam fast and dangerously. He turned from the position that faced the sink, glaring daggers at her.

She wasn't even phased. Before giving him a straight answer, she took a last puff of her cigarette and stamped out the remainder via an ashtray perched atop the kitchen table. "Yeah, I wonder. Did you _have_ to torture him?"

"What makes you think I did?"

"Don't play that game with me. We both damn well know you did."

Vegeta scowled, his brow furrowing. "Don't even _think _about wishing him back with the dragonballs, woman..."

"I'm not that dumb, Vegeta. I'm angry too, remember? I also don't have any doubts as to where Bra got her conniving personality."

Vegeta almost seemed to take a hint of pride in that, but it was really hard to tell with the leer that had adhered itself to his face. He shifted his weight to the opposite leg, tearing his gaze from Bulma's angry features. As he concentrated on the closed, white door of the refrigerator, he commented calmly, "It doesn't matter. Your daughter broke the training simulator, and then removed the food, as you said..."

He didn't get to finish. Bulma raised her hands, flinging them into the air as she screeched, "_My_ daughter? Kami, Vegeta, you say that so often you would think I conceived her by asexual means! What the hell do you mean, _my_ daughter?! She's yours too!"

He only smirked in response. "She looks exactly like you. I wouldn't be surprised."

Bulma repressed the urge to hit him across his smug face, and wipe it into a clean slate. "Bastard."

"You never let me finish from before, Bulma." When he used her name, she knew it was serious. Now he was beginning to sound weary, as if the exasperation he had felt all throughout that day had finally become so much that he had to express it outwardly to rid himself of it.

"Go ahead, but no smart-ass comments."

He looked affronted. "Fine. Like I said, she may have done those things, but that idiot 'friend' of hers might have led her on..."

Bulma hastily cut him off. "What, trying to find an excuse for _your _daughter, Vegeta?" She smiled as his normal scowl fell into place, the veneer of exhaustion wiped clean. "Bra confessed to dragging Pan along with it, actually. It doesn't make Pan any less guilty, but I just want you to know before you start blaming this all on Pan's relation to Goku."

"That miserable Kakkorot," he swore beneath his breath, "I..."

Again, he was interrupted as Bulma swiftly deflected any chance of furthering his sentences. "Shut up and listen, would you? Don't you want to know _why_ she did what she did?"

Her actions thus far only darkened his scowl further. He appeared on the edge of violence, although she knew she would never be at the receiving end. Nearly snarling, he countered, "What?"

"She felt you and I argue too much. She thinks we hate each other."

Any further words died with his frown. He seemed surprised, but hastened to cover the expression behind a mask of more indifference. "So? Let her."

"Let her??" Bulma was clearly shocked at his simplistic resolution to the dilemma. "Just **_let_** her? Oh, for Kami's sake, Vegeta. We are her parents, who happen to live beneath the same roof. If we were separated, it wouldn't be that way." She shook her head, before adding softly, "She has a point, you know. With these last few weeks we have been at each other's throats."

He chuffed gruffly and crossed his arms against his chest defensively, which mimicked her. "Do you think I actually think I care about any of this?"

"Yeah, I do."

He just shook his head and turned away, heading for the foyer once more. "Baka woman. There is nothing wrong with things as they are." He left in the direction of the Gravity Room, abandoning her to the cold solace of the kitchen. She shook her head sadly, before a single, silent tear made its presence known by sliding down a pale cheek. Bulma chided herself for crying at that stage in her life. Kami only knew how many tears Vegeta and put her through over the years. This time around shouldn't have been any different, yet she found herself wondering again just how much he did care.

__

You are far too blind for your own good, Bulma. Even a first grader can easily see what you try to ignore, time and time again.

She exited the kitchen, went upstairs and threw herself on top of her bed. Her body became quickly wracked with sobs, long into wee hours of the morning.

-AN: Whew! Chapter 9 finished. One more to go and then this fic is done. R&R, please!


	10. Resolutions

Doubts: Chapter 10

While the heated argument between Bulma and Vegeta had temporarily broken up within the confines of the kitchen below them, two female children of Saiyan lineage were just getting started after a long bout of somber silence.

"I just _knew _this would happen."

Bra canted her head to one side, giving Pan a sour look. "You worry too much. It didn't turn out that bad."

"**WHAT?!"**

"Ok, maybe it could have gone a little better."

Pan looked furious. She was just about ready to strangle Bra. Her parents were going to ground her for life and then some. Worse yet, Bra had not yet even made the slightest attempt at fulfilling her end of the bargain they had made prior to the mess they were in now. "You," she said gravely, jutting a small index finger accusingly at Bra, "...you owe me a sparring match, and it's now or never. After Momma and Dad get back, they will never put us together in the same room again alone." She paused a moment, and then added swiftly, "...Which is fine with me!"

Bra raised one blue eyebrow, observing Pan owlishly. "What do you mean..? I thought we were friends!"

Pan was by far too angry at Bra to admit that now, so instead she spat, "We were friends. Get that? _Were_. Now I just want to get this sparring match you owe me over with."

A span of silence ticked by between them, before Bra curled her lower lip petulantly and crossed her short arms against her chest. "No."

"No??"

"You heard me."

"...But you said you would! And I did what you wanted, so now you have to do what I want!"

Bra shook her head cryptically, eyeing Pan with a faint, bitter amusement that someone of her age shouldn't be able to convey to others so plainly. "The plan didn't work out. Mommy and Daddy still don't like each other very much, and now we are in trouble. You should have driven a different way, not towards that funny little man."

Pan grew quiet, almost gravely so. She leaned a few inches closer to Bra, who had taken it upon herself to sit on the edge of her frilly bed like a princess on her throne while Pan had been regulated to stand on the floor. "Are you saying this is all my fault?"

"Uh-huh," Bra chirped, a little too cheery for the situation she had found herself in.

"Take it back!"

"Nuh-uh."

"That's it, you are _so_ dead!" Pan lunged in Bra's general direction, arms outstretched. Bra obviously hadn't seen this coming, and so it was with a squeal of terror and surprise that she fell back on the soft expanse of her mattress, going supine. Her short legs still dangled off the edge of the bed, beginning from the backs of her knees on out. Pan landed with cat-like agility on top of Bra, glowering murderously down at the younger girl.

Bra glared defiantly up at Pan, her aqua eyes narrowing to twin slits of blue. "Get off of me, Pan!" The opposing force of her hands accompanied her protests as they pushed at Pan's chest. She was simply pushing, without putting too much effort into it. She seemed to believe that this alone would rid herself of her annoying houseguest.

Pan didn't budge. Putting her arms into a lock just above both of Bra's shoulders, on either side of her head, the black-haired girl simply scowled down at the blue-haired one. "We made a deal, and you have to finish your end of it. No matter what happened."

Bra tensed beneath Pan, her eyebrows knitted and jaw set stubbornly. Her gaze had gone shuttered, and for a moment Pan began to believe that she wouldn't ever get that match, unless it meant pounding Bra into the ground here and now... unless she took the easy way out and screamed for Bulma or Vegeta. Instead, Bra's grimly set expression began to morph. One corner of the young girl's mouth began to upturn, slanting the seam of her undefined lips one way. Her eyebrows remained furrowed, but now amusement chased across the dark blue depths of her eyes. Pan gasped audibly, for right before her seemed to be a young, feminine version of Vegeta. It was both disconcerting and interesting at the same time. "You wanna fight? Ok, you got it."

Before Pan had the time to contemplate Bra's quick change of heart, she found herself below Bra instead of vice-versa. Bra had taken the lesson the vagrant had given her about the use of surprise to heart. When Pan's guard had shifted for a second or two, Bra had taken the initiative to roll Pan beneath her. It meant using her uncanny speed, something humans failed to possess.

"What are you doing?!" Pan struggled to get up, using the backs of her elbows as a measure of support.

Bra wasted no time in grabbing Pan by the collar of her shirt, dragging her up to her eye level. "Fighting. Isn't that what you wanted?" Again, the bemusement in her high tenor nearly drained the color from Pan's face.

"Not like this! We are supposed to spar, not wrestle!"

Bulma's daughter appeared momentarily confused, and she released Pan. Pan fell backwards onto the bedspread with an 'oomph!' and spent the rest of her time there watching Bra wearily. "You mean this isn't sparring?"

"If you mean martial arts, no. Get off!"

"Party-pooper."

"Don't call me that!"

"Or what," Bra teased, "Are you going to hit me? If you do I'll tell Mommy."

"So? You are already in trouble anyways. If you go tattle to her she isn't going to like it. The last thing you want to do is make her madder. Now get off, you weigh a ton!"

"I do not!" Bra pouted. Despite this, she grudgingly hopped back, landing easily on the carpet. "You weigh more. You're older."

"Oh, be quiet," Pan grumbled as she sat upright, dusting the rumples from the sleeves of her shirt. "Now, are you going to spar with me or not?"

Bra sighed as she finally gave in. After all, she was bored and there was nothing else to do anyways. Playing dolls was redundant, especially after Bulma had made sure to remove every last toy from Bra's bedroom so the two girls could 'think about what they did wrong'. Besides this, Bra felt a certain stirring of... something... within her. She was disappointed and discouraged about the day's events, especially after having believed her scheme was foolproof. She wanted to take the annoyance she felt out on _something_, and it might as well have been her partner-in-crime. "Ok, fine. What do you want me to do?"

Pan visibly brightened, and shot Bra a beaming smile. "You really wanna learn? This is gonna be so much fun! I didn't think you would want to but--"

"Just tell me how," Bra cut in, becoming a little irked. "..Maybe I could use what you show me on Trunks..."

"Now you are the one going on about stuff. Just listen," Pan stated pointedly.

The teal-haired girl crossed her arms against her chest a second time and blew an errant bang from her face with a puff of agitated air from beneath pouted lips. "Fine."

"Ok, now this is how you start..." Pan put herself in a defensive stance, one foot ahead of the other in a line. Her hands were at the ready, just out in front of her face. "Copy me."

"That looks dumb!" Bra whined.

"Just do it," Pan insisted with draining patience, "It works. Dad showed me."

Bra got into position, mirroring the way Pan stood. Her disgust at the stance showed through her visage, causing the older girl to roll her dark eyes towards the ceiling. "I feel stupid," Bra mumbled.

"If you do it a lot, you don't feel so stupid anymore. I kinda felt that way too, when I first started."

Bra's interest was piqued, and she momentarily lost the look of revulsion on her face. "You did?"

"Yeah, but now it seems normal. Now, do you know how to kick?"

"I see Trunks and Daddy kicking all the time," Bra offered whimsically, "they always end up dirty and nasty afterward. Mommy even says so."

"That's not what I mean." Pan groaned inwardly, shaking her head to rid herself of an oncoming headache. "What I mean to say is... have _you_ ever done it?"

Bra appeared to think about that for a heartbeat before answering the negative, "Nope."

"Then try. Try to kick me."

"Are you kidding?"

"No. Kick me."

"Ahh... ok..." Uncertainty fell upon Bra as she broke the defensive posture that Pan had insisted she stay in, and purposely crossed the short distance between herself and her friend. Without wasting any time, she snatched back one leg and kicked Pan in the shin with innocent force.

Pan's scream rebounded off the room as she lifted her new injury, hopping around the bedroom on one leg like a kangaroo with an amputation. She held her one leg close to her chest, all the while crying out a litany of 'Ow, ow, ow, ow...!'.

"Panny! Are you ok?" Bra followed close on Pan's heel, still considering the ebony-haired girl to be her friend even if it did happen to be a one-sided title. "You told me to kick you, and I did! Why are you acting so funny?!"

Pan clenched her eyes tightly together, forcing the next string of screams down into her vocal chords. "Jeez, you **hurt** me! You aren't supposed to just walk up to your sparring partner and kick them like that!! I wasn't expecting it!"

"Isn't it good to not let you expect it?"

Pan shot Bra a death glare. "If you go on kicking people like that, you will get laughed at! That's almost as bad as what Daddy calls a 'low blow', or whatever he means by that. I was expecting a round kick or something! Owwwie!"

"Oh." It was really the only answer that Bra could give the pained Pan as the older girl sat herself on the edge of Bra's bed to further soothe her wound. By the looks of it, Pan would have an awesome bruise come morning. She didn't believe anything was broken, thankfully.

"Hey, Bra?"

"What?"

"You kicked that creepy guy today, too. Why did you seem to hurt him more than me?"

"I just tapped you. I was trying to get away from him. He scared me."

"So... you just kicked him?" Pan blinked back her confusion as realization came to the forefront.

"Yeah, I just kicked him."

"Oh." Now it was Pan's turn to refrain from articulate speech... not that there was much articulation with children of their age group anyways. After some time had passed, Pan found the will to speak again. Asking slowly, she grated out, "Hey, you know what? If you work hard on that strength of yours, you would make a great fighter."

"You think?"

"Yeah, I do."

Bra smiled slowly, a gentle curve of the mouth. "Thanks, Pan."

"No problem." With a little groan and shift of the springs beneath her, Pan pushed herself onto the carpet with renewed resolve. "Let's finish this, while we still can." She put a little weight onto her offending leg, only surprised to find that it really didn't hurt all that much anymore. Sure, it still ached and gave her grievance, but she could at least walk and stand on it.

Bra gave her friend a skeptical look, turning a half circle around Pan before stopping. "Are you sure you still can?"

"Yeah, but no more cheap moves like that, ok? Just do what I say."

Bra slumped her shoulders, but a true, genuine smile lit her face. "Ok."

______________________________________________________________________________

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Capsule Corporation, master bedroom...

Bulma lay on her stomach atop the bed in her bedroom, face thrust into one of the overstuffed pillows at the head of the mattress. She felt miserable and hollow inside. The fiasco with the girls, tempered with the ill-at-ease relationship she had been having with Vegeta lately had left her at a loss. In her younger years, she often found herself brought to tears by Vegeta's lack of consideration, or apparent use of. As time went on, she developed a certain understanding of the Saiyan's true personality. He liked to hide certain emotions... namely all of them... except anger, indifference and disgust. It was rare he showed her or anyone something else, although she could say for a fact that she was usually on the receiving end of those he kept locked up. For that she was glad, and even selfishly aware, but lately she had just seemed to become 'everyone else' in his eyes again. It just wasn't fair, even after all those years of work she had put into him...

Sighing, the president of Capsule Corporation despondently reached for the novel she had left lying facedown on the nightstand. She could help but to see the irony in its position and hers. She abandoned it during the day, even going so much to forget about it until nighttime, when she would pick it up again and read into it. In a way, this was how Vegeta also acted around her at times. To be compared to a dusty old novel was bad enough, but her own situational mire and the combination of this new parallel sent her into another fit of sobs. She didn't think she could take it anymore. So strong... or so she thought. Her binding was breaking, after so many years of wear and tear.

Throughout her crying fits, Bulma failed to notice a new yet recurring visitor to her bedroom. A dark silhouette outlined by a flame of spiky black hair stood in the open doorway, arms crossed. Vegeta stared down at Bulma with a mixture of apathy and inconclusive thought.

"What are you doing, woman?" he ground out.

Bulma lifted her head from her currently soggy pillow, angling body to see Vegeta better. Strands of wet hair barred her vision at certain points, giving her a partial view of his scowl. "N-Nothing. J-Just going to s-sleep." Her broken words couldn't even come out normally enough to fake her emotional state. How pathetic was she? The thought sent another wave of sobs bursting to the surface.

"It doesn't look that way to me." Something tangible underlined his words, although she was far too messed up to define it.

"What does it matter what it looks like? Just leave me alone. That should be easy for you." Her anguish threaded through her voice, and she no longer tried to suppress it. What was the point? He might even laugh at her for all of this whimpering, just like in the old days. After the way he acted recently, she wouldn't put it past him.

Vegeta crossed the room, and knelt by the bed. Making sure to send the door flying shut on his way over, he took up one of the blue-eyed scientist's hands in his own. He didn't say much, just continually frowned down upon her.

His move caught her unaware. Sweeping back a curtain of hair from her face with her freehand, Bulma struggled to make out his expression through the tears in her eyes. Even though his face couldn't have been more than a foot or so away now, she was having great difficulty in understanding what she saw there. Anger, yes. Frustration, yes. Loneliness, possibly. Comfort? Perhaps... although she could be imagining the latter. If she was, then why was he holding her hand? "Vegeta?" His name was a whispered word, the secret password.

His eyes jerked up from the ground, leveling off to her own. Azure intermingled with coal, and they seemed to strike a truce. He had understood, all along, that he had been difficult. And she... she now could see that she could have let up on him a little more now and again. He had never meant to cause her pain, he would never wish to do so. In her failure to fully realize this, she had only deepened her own sorrow to the point that she had actually believed that there was nothing worth going ahead for, expect the children.

The children.

Yes, his eyes told her. He loved his kids, he always would. Couldn't she see that he was not one to admit that? Didn't she know by now who he truly was?

Yes, she knew. She knew but sometimes seemed to believe that she had forgotten. But it was there all along.

Bulma sniffed, letting the hand not held tight by his to reach across and caress the sharp contours of his cheek. She loved him, and would continue to say it even if he never did. Besides, she already knew how he felt for her by his actions. She really didn't need much more.

"Bulma, I..." His dark whisper permeated her thoughts, giving the world a white lining.

The hand on his cheek traveled to his lips, effectively stopping him from saying much more. "I know. So am I."

He smiled, a rare hint of affection for her showing through his blank mask. He shut off the gap between them, capturing her lips in a deep kiss. Joining her on the bed, he wrapped his arms snugly around her as she reached to turn off the reading lamp on the nightstand.

"I love you."

"Never doubt that," he finished and reciprocated before words were no longer necessary between the two of them.

THE END

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A/N: Well, there it is... the 10th and final chapter to Doubts. It's done now! Yay! Sorry it took so long to get that up there.. school and work have be running around in circles. I hope you liked the ending, and since Doubts is officially over, I can concentrate fully on Event Horizon, my B&V get-together. Consider the first chapter I have up to be a 'teaser', if you will.

As always, please R&R!


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